On the Path to a Black Tongue:
A Greek Woman’s View of Sexism
Thesis submitted to The Graduate School of the Process Work Center of Portland in partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the Masters degree in Process Work
Lily Vassiliou Portland, OR USA 1999
to the spirit that guides me in all its manifestations
I am a woman
who left her culture seeking inner freedom writing to break free
Sharing her journey hoping it will strike a cord in some inspire them to look inside and instigate change
Esmeralda was sitting with her father next to a window, taking turns looking through a telescope, when they saw a witch flying on her broomstick across the full moon!
Suddenly, the witch appeared in the bedroom, grabbed Esmeralda’s chin and opened her mouth. “Your tongue is not black yet!” the witch screeched after inspecting Esmeralda’s tongue.
Esmeralda knew that having a black tongue was the indication of having become a witch, so, without wasting any more time, she climbed on the broomstick and the two of them flew off into the night shrieking mischievously and screeching with joy!
Acknowledgments
This paper would have never seen the light of the day had it not been for so many people. I am deeply indebted to each and every one.
First and foremost I want to thank Jan Dworkin and Arny Mindell for taking the journey with me and midwifing my birth. I thank the spirits that sent you my way. You have changed my life forever through your presence and your very being. Deep gratitude and love…
The process work community in all its various forms, local and global, for being a garden for me to bloom in and for teaching me how to step into the fire by stepping in with me. This transformation would have never happened without you.
Max Schupbach for challenging me to be all that I am. Thank you for loving and supporting me and being my “worthy opponent”!
Julie Diamond, the fairy godmother of this paper, who with her deep feelings created the right atmosphere for the insemination during its conception.
Amy Mindell, Jytte Vikkelsoe, Kate Jobe, and Jan Dworkin for escorting me through this program with love, inspiring me, challenging me, learning and growing with me. A true sorcerer’s group!
Kate Jobe for overseeing the creation of this paper, guiding it to its completion and Leslie Heizer for her skillful, heartfelt editing.
Anna-Maria Angelopoulou for bringing me to Process Work, opening this door in my life. Reini Hauser and Lesli Mones for taking me in, in my moment of desperation, providing the emotional cradle for the birth. Lena Aslanidou for her invaluable help with research and her long lasting friendship. Natasha Docker for nurturing my body with the yummiest cooking, seasoned with love. Emetchi for making me take breaks under the stars in the hot tub. Kas Robinson for reading the first draft with her heart. Kathrine Barton, a sister in a foreign land. Marina and Alexia Papayianni, kindred spirits, sister souls whose love and support for following my heart’s path somehow always magically arrived in the times of deepest need.
Last but not least, my family. Alexandra, my younger sister who celebrated my first three sentences as if they were a whole chapter, encouraging me until the very last. Annie, my older sister, who never ceases to surprise me, touching the depths of my soul. My mother and father, Vasso and George, who have supported me with all their hearts and shared their lives and struggles with me. I carry you all in my heart...
Foreword
ppression and discrimination are “inescapable parts of everyday life” for O many women around the world. “In many countries, wife beating is an accepted practice; women and girls are allowed to eat only after the men; boys are sent to school while girls are kept at home to work or sold into servitude”.1 Female infants are killed; young girls are mutilated by having their clitoris and labia cut off; women are restricted in appearance and whereabouts, forced into prostitution, sexually abused, and harassed.
Recent statistics say that women make up more than half the world’s population, perform more than two-thirds of the world’s work, earn less than 10 percent of all income, and own less than one percent of all property.2
Women’s oppression is nothing new; it has been going on for centuries. Numerous people have written about it, countless stories have been told. This is one more story, my story of growing up in the country I was born in, Greece.
May it bring healing to others as it has to me.
Lily Vassiliou Portland, 1999
1 Oxfam America fundraising letter. 2 1995 Human Development Report: Gender and Human Development. Commissioned by United Nations Development Program. Oxford University Press, 1995.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Foreword
Introduction
I Breaking the Silence 1
II History Introduction 8 Under the Ottoman Empire 9 War of Independence 11 The Great Idea 12 The First Years of Independence 13 The Balkan Wars 13 World War I & the Destruction of Smyrna 15 Interwar Period 17 World War II 18 Civil War 19 Post-Civil-War Years 26 Junta 26 Coup in Cyprus & Turkish Invasion 28 Restoration of Democracy 30
III Greek Culture 31 Introduction 33 Traditional Culture 33 Forms of Sexism in Traditional Culture 38 Modern Culture 40 The Evolution of Patriarchy through my Family Tree 43 Images of a Culture 47
IV Christianity 58
V Personal History Introduction 65 Her Story 66 His Story 67 Meeting 70 Personal Experiences 73 Memories 75 My Relationship to my Mother 80 My Relationship to my Father 81 Epilogue to Personal History 85
VI Social Reality 86 Being the Oppressor & the Oppressed 89 Inner Effects of Sexism 93 Sexism in the Outer Realm 93 Social Surroundings 94 Education 95 Professional Life 96 Personal Relationships 97 Sexism’s Effect on Relationships 101 Sexism’s Effect on Men 104 How We Perpetuate Sexism 105 “Benefits” of Stereotypes 106 Gender Role Training 107 Brain Research 109 Gender Diversity 110 Epilogue to Social Reality 111
VII Sexuality 112 Introduction 114 Esmeralda’s Story 117 Journey Within 121 Epilogue to Sexuality 204
VII A Suggestion for Change 205
Epilogue 209 Epilogue 2 210
Bibliography 214
Illustration Credits 220
Appendix 221 Introduction
his paper is about sexism, about the effect that being put down has on one’s T life, and about bringing about change. Sexism affects us all; women, men, and all the sexes in between, transgender, transsexual, heterosexual, and homosexual people. It affects the way we perceive and feel about ourselves and the world around us; it stops us from living life fully and developing to our greatest potential.
One aspect of this work has to do with personal healing. This paper emerged over a period of three years, with a life of its own. Once it came into being I realized that writing it was part of a healing process. As such it gives the reader an inside look at the effects of sexism on one woman's life and her journey towards healing.
Another aspect of this work has to do with relationships. This paper was written in hopes of raising our awareness around the effects that sexism has on the way we relate to one another, and around the fact that getting hurt and striking back is a ceaseless cycle unless one notices and changes the cycle. I believe that this kind of awareness helps us deepen our relationships and make them more sustainable.
Yet another aspect of this work has to do with social change. This paper comes from the belief that we need to step into the fire of conflict1 and sit there with one another, for “it is in the heart of conflict that we find deep intimacy and love.”2 Part of stepping into the fire for me involves listening to one another' s pain and rage and finding the “other” in ourselves. I'm hoping this paper will encourage you to open up and listen with your heart to your "opponents", and discover them as a part of yourself.
This paper begins in chapter 1 with the story of its birth, which in itself reflects what it is trying to address.
Chapter 2 provides a brief description of recent Greek history to set a historical context for what follows.
Chapter 3 begins by describing traditional Greek culture and its inherent forms of sexism, showing how most of them are alive and well in modern Greek culture. It goes on to follow the evolution of patriarchy in my family tree.
1 This metaphor was introduced into Process Work by David Jones.
2 I am grateful to Wilma Jean Tucker for capturing in this sentence what feels to me like the essence of worldwork. Mindell defines worldwork as the creative utilization of conflict in Sitting in the Fire, Lao Tse Press, 1995, p. 12. Chapter 4 points out some of the ways Christianity reflects and perpetuates the patriarchal attitudes of the society it developed in.
Chapter 5 includes personal experiences I had growing up, showing in part the effects of patriarchal attitudes on one's self image and self-esteem.
In chapter 6, the paper dives into the social realm. This chapter begins by describing the cycle of becoming the oppressor when one is oppressed and continues with an account of personal experiences of sexism in my social surroundings, education, professional life, and personal relationships. It shows how sexism affects men as well as women, and how it is perpetuated by most of us regardless of gender, in part due to the rigorous gender training we all experience growing up. Findings from the latest brain research suggesting that sex-typed gender behavior seems to affect the structure of the brain is presented, along with the beliefs of many Native peoples that there have always been more than the two sexes we recognize today. The chapter ends by proposing more fluidity in our ideas around gender, roles, and sexuality.
Chapter 7 enters the realm of sexuality through exploring the effect sexism has had on my experience as a sexual being. This chapter brings us to the internal realm, providing glimpses of a seven-year journey of healing and self-discovery.
Chapter 8 concludes this paper with suggestions for change.
Throughout the work personal experiences, feelings and dreams are expressed through poetry and storytelling. Some parts are written in the first person and others in the third, which created the necessary distance and detachment for certain stories to be told.
Putting something so personal into the world is scary. During the final editing I struggled to find the balance between being naked, which is part of my coming out, my social action and what I bring into the world, and feeling exposed. In the midst of this struggle I realized that this paper, while very personal paper, is also impersonal. I am me, and I am all that is. From the viewpoint of the “little me”3 this is extremely personal. From the viewpoint of the “big me” this is part of the universal human experience, and as such I offer it to you.
3 “Little me” and “big me” are concepts I was introduced to by Drs. Amy and Arny Mindell in their seminar “You, The World In-Side-Out: Personal and Social Transformation” in March 1998. The “Little me” includes all my feelings and my identity. The “Big me” includes the “Little me”, all the parts inside that I marginalize, and the entire atmosphere out of which everything arises. (Definitions taken from personal notes.) Breaking the Silence
silenced mute sinking in deeper and deeper unseen, invisible suffocating brewing snarling, growling, screaming raging wild, passionate creature powerful lustful
I WANT TO LIVE
Breaking the silence? Internal fears stand like monsters guarding the gates to the other side. Internal voices put up barriers to be overcome. Who am I to speak the unspeakable, to make ripples in the peaceful waters of the status quo? “If you don’t like it, tough luck. Nobody is asking you anyway. Go down, give in and adapt or leave before you get too out there and get yourself killed.” Death. I feel violent. I’m raging inside and have been keeping it all in. Am I making sense? How I can be making sense with all these emotions? How can I be attempting to write when I’m so full of pain and rage, when I’m so one-sided? Who wants to listen?
I’m hoping you are willing to listen to my rage and pain, tolerate my one- sidedness, and join me in the struggle to create an atmosphere where we are free to be all that we are and explore new ways of relating to one another.
I am a woman born and raised in Greece. I left when I was 28. I am now 35 and still suffocate when I’m there. Our attitude towards women is so belittling, so humiliating and so much the norm it drives me crazy. It’s so painful, so enraging. Sexism permeates everything and everyone. It’s in our culture, in our religion, in our history, in our schools, in our politics, in our songs, in our jokes. It’s in the way we relate to one another, the way we relate to ourselves. It’s so ordinary that we don’t even notice it. We think: this is Greece. But it’s not and we need to change it, for we all suffer from this, women and men alike.
1
UST SPEAK UP! It seems so simple, so elementary, yet breaking the J silence is the biggest struggle on this journey of hers. Identifying as a woman who can think, who is important enough to speak up, who has something valuable to say.
Sitting by a river one evening at dusk it dawned on her, “I have a story to tell!” Driving earlier that day, suicide had flashed through her mind. “What if I stepped on it? I would die right here, running, crashing at full speed! What a relief!”
Yes! It's time to pull the drowning one out of the water, embrace her, and support her from the back.
She's used to feeling small, insignificant, worthless. She's used to being invisible, hiding, adapting to her surroundings, blending in so as not to be noticed.
It's time for the worrying and struggling to prove she's worthwhile to end. Time for this image of herself that haunts her to dissolve. Time to breathe and relax and let the words flow through her.
Her wounds have been healed by love the universe sent her way. It's time for the silenced one to speak up.
Erupting
Having been silenced for eons pushed underground I hear her now roaring erupting in sounds Hot lava is pouring out of her womb She's coming She's spreading Beware She burns
2
he first steps were really hard. Just thinking about writing made Esmeralda Tburst into tears. It seemed like such a huge, impossible tangled mess. She didn’t know which end to pull on first!
“I want to write about my experience growing up as a woman in Greece,” she thought to herself. “About the connection between being put down and feeling bad about myself; about the struggle to free myself from the definitions, restrictions, and inhibitions of the Greek culture, Christianity and my family that have become a part of me. I want to write about the journey of a woman giving birth to herself.” But as soon as she tried to write, other thoughts took over. “You’re not a writer; your ideas are too simplistic. You really don’t have any ideas at all. You can’t think. You can’t write. This isn’t an academic paper, this is just emotional gibberish.”
Barely aware of these thoughts, she felt heavy and depressed whenever she tried to write. She couldn’t think. She felt immobilized. She surrendered without really putting up a fight and then felt bad for being depressed and not able to write. It was a mess!
Then came substances. She couldn’t make it through the day without eating something sweet. Yes, she needed the love, calming, and soothing, but it worked only momentarily. The “downer” returned with more force and ammunition, this time around her body image.
She went for help, but the more ideas people gave her, the deeper she sank. She tried to make an outline and approach writing in a linear way, but nothing came out. Her pages stayed blank. She avoided the whole thing because it made her feel so bad, but then she felt even worse for avoiding it!
Feeling desperately stuck, Esmeralda went to find her friend the elf, who had come into her life several years ago. This elf was a very unusual creature; he lived his life hunting down his dreaming, paying attention to things worldly creatures didn’t usually pay attention to.
When their eyes met for the first time, she felt he looked right into her soul. Over the years they had developed an intimate relationship. She felt loved, supported, and cared for. He saw her beauty and believed in her; he was there for her when she needed him.
Esmeralda told him what was troubling her. The elf asked her to imagine that she was free of everything that stops her from thinking and speaking out and then just see what would come out of her. She tried hard to imagine, but she couldn’t really. After a while the insidious thoughts crept back into her mind and she started feeling really bad. She opened her eyes and told the elf it was hard to be free; she didn’t know how; she couldn’t think. So then the elf showed her the
3 answer her body had given her, which was to close her eyes and be quiet. “Your body is telling you to go inside and wait. Take your time.” he told her, “Take your time”.
Upon hearing this, Esmeralda broke into tears. She cried and cried. Years of pain were being released. It was so relieving and healing to be understood, have her deeper nature be seen, not be considered dumb, unable to think. She had an impulse to crawl into his arms and asked him to hold her. He came over and hugged her and started humming a tune. The tune was so familiar to her, so soothing. She somehow knew the melody although she hadn’t yet recognized it. In his arms, she felt held by a father who is there to support her. She felt safe; she didn’t have to make it alone. After a while he asked her if she knew the tune and told her which film it was from. The minute he told her, her whole childhood came tumbling in. She remembered how much she loved that song when she was young! She played the record over and over! It made her so happy it brought her to tears…
She was so amazed that he was humming this tune! Magical things always seemed to happen around him. She loved her elf; he was very special indeed!
That film was about a doctor who was married and was living a very conventional life when he fell in love and had an affair with a woman who brought out his true nature. He was really a poet.
Now wasn’t that strange! The night before while soaking in the bathtub she had been thinking about phrases that seemed to pop out of her every now and then; they were so poetic that they surprised her! She had thought she should maybe try writing in poems! The elf agreed and told her to wait and see what popped out of her.
So Esmeralda stopped trying to write and waited, hoping that something would emerge in its own time. It was a long hard wait. She was in agony about not writing in a controlled way and had trouble believing in her internal rhythm and wisdom. Meanwhile, she kept writing in her journal. Of course, she never considered that writing; that was just talking to herself, trying to make meaning out of her life!
After a while the struggle inside intensified again and manifested on the outside as well. During a study committee meeting she came face to face with the need to speed up and get things done. There were deadlines to meet, no time to follow her internal rhythm. In terms of the outer deadlines she was failing.
For a moment, it seemed like the battle was lost forever. She was crushed and going under. She was devastated because she had hoped it would be different this time Yet here she was, faced with the same condemnation she had faced twenty years previous, this time by the people she hoped could help her turn
4 things around. “You’re too slow, you fail.” Inside she heard, “We may love your feeling nature but you’re not adequate to succeed in the world.” This was the story of her life. Growing up she had been too slow for the IQ tests, too slow to follow physics and math, too slow in her communication style; no room for slowness in this fast-paced world.
It was a heavy blow that would have finished her off if the dancing spirit —one of her study committee members—hadn’t stayed and helped pull her back to the surface. Together they realized they had been players in this internal struggle of hers by taking over the part of her that was pressuring her. She wasn’t giving herself the chance to follow her inner rhythm. She needed more time, but something in her equated that with failure. She had to finish within the time frame she originally had set up in order to prove to the one doubting her that she was adequate, worthwhile. What a set-up! Doing anything from that position was bound to end up bloody!
Fighting the sense of failure, she decided to allow herself to take the time to follow her internal rhythm and that relieved her.
Then, one night Esmeralda found herself on a sailboat sailing down a river. After a while, they came to a passage that was much too narrow for the sailboat to pass. They turned the boat around and went back to where they had started from when suddenly a huge crane lifted the sailboat and took it over the big rocks, setting it back down into the open sea!
A few days later she went to find her friend, the mermaid. Esmeralda had met the mermaid around the time she had met the elf and together they had embarked on a very special journey. Mind you this was no ordinary mermaid! She had magical powers with which she was able to bring forth our friend’s own magical powers. Together they ventured out into unmarked territories deep beneath the sea.
That afternoon they were trying to find a way to deal with this creature that was sitting on Esmeralda’s head being totally mean to her, telling her she was worthless. No matter what the mermaid tried the creature wouldn’t change. It didn’t care about anything. No one was going to make it be kind or turn into something useful! No! It was never going to do that! No magic anyone possessed was powerful enough to make it change. It just sat there enjoying having absolute power!
The mermaid was convinced and bowed down to it and Esmeralda shapeshifted into this creature. She started enjoying the enormous sense of freedom of not having to do anything, not having to change psychologically. “I’m fine the way I am! What you see is what you get! AS IS!”
5 As this creature she sat on the outside watching the mermaid play out her internal struggle between a part that was depressed and felt worthless and a part that was always trying to be good, grow, develop, mature. After a while she turned to both and told them to go away! “Enough with both of you, you’re making me dizzy! You are too miserable, and you are too good! Just go! I’m done with both of you!”
In that moment she remembered the crane that picked up the sailboat on the river. This creature she had become was taking her outside the whole struggle, setting her free. Something was changing; this sense of absolute freedom was such a surprise!
One night not much later, a wise old woman came to her and told her it was time to write. “Go ahead, just put it down on paper. It’s already written. You have it all inside!” But Esmeralda got anxious again as the pages in front of her remained white.
The elf encouraged her to take some time off, relax and enjoy herself, keep everything loose. Following his advice she took a few days to go into nature with friends; suddenly something in her clicked. She had lots of ideas about how to put it all together. The words started flowing! It was her first victory! She was ecstatic!
Esmeralda realized that the whole struggle around writing was part of what she was trying to describe about sexism. In order to write, she had to overcome putting herself down, break through the shame, believe in her life experiences. She had to trust herself enough to drop the linear, more dominant way of writing and believe in communicating her way, from her feeling experience. She had to trust that something meaningful and coherent would come out of her.
In addition, she had to decide that she was going to break cultural taboos around what is considered appropriate to speak about in public. She had to risk hurting people she loved by talking about how she had experienced things they had done, even though they may have not intended them that way.
Suddenly, writing felt so healing to her. Talking about the pain, the rage, the struggle to free herself transformed her experiences into a source of power and nourishment for herself and perhaps others as well.
So many creatures had helped her get there…
The earth fairy had come with love and deep feelings instead of pressure and ideas, which was the only way to support this baby; faith, patience and love. She had seen what was coming and shown Esmeralda its beauty and value, helped her trust it when all she could do was cry.
6 She had been the first to listen to Esmeralda talk ever so faintly about her ideas. The earth fairy set her on her path, encouraging her to write down the personal stories that came to her mind. When things got tough Esmeralda went to her and the fairy prayed to the goddesses and the gods, the spirits and the water pixies, to help her friend see that she was healed, that she was ready, that she could.
There was also a sister spirit who appreciated the little blurbs Esmeralda occasionally wrote in her journal during the waiting time, and who encouraged and celebrated her for them. And there was another sister spirit who saw in her the power of a woman who would sing her truth to the world. Actually there were many fairies, pixies, elves, and other helpful creatures, but that is another story we might tell some other time.
Yes, the role of love, support, seeing and believing in, encouraging, loving no matter what, should not be underestimated here.
This was a seven-year birthing process cradled in love.
7 History
he historical background puts my life experiences in a context. I grew up in T 1 a particular place and time the spirits of which are part of the field I am part of. I am part of a sequence, an historical lineage. My struggles are personal, but they are also the struggles of the Greek field, and even more broadly, the global field.
I grew up in Athens, Greece, in a period where things were rapidly changing. I witnessed Greece transform from a “third world” country influenced by the East into a “European” one influenced by the West. The country and its people were in transition from war to peace, from dictatorship to democracy; from an economy based on agriculture to one based on industry, private enterprise and tourism; from a traditional culture where everything was defined to a modern one where everything needed to be redefined along the way.
2. Greece. In the neighborhood where I grew up lived American families from the US military base that was close by. I remember the clothes they wore, the food they ate, the music they listened to, the games they played, the cars they drove, everything of theirs was totally different. We lived in the same block but in different worlds! Gradually Greece opened its market; today it is part of the European Union. Like others my age, I still remember the thrill of buying my first pair of blue jeans and tennis shoes—I was 10 years old.
My generation was the first to grow up in times of peace and the last to have some connection with a sense of fighting for freedom and ideals. Greece had been under a military regime that was partly overthrown by the resistance of university students, workers, and people who joined together and closed themselves in the Polytechnic School of Athens. Three days later tanks rolled over the gates and their bodies, forcing them out. Although that spontaneous uprising was suppressed, it was the beginning of the end for a regime that had been forced to show its real face.
1 The term “field” is used here in the sense of “the atmosphere or climate of any community, including its physical, environmental and emotional surroundings.” (Mindell, Arnold, Sitting In the Fire, Lao Tse Press, 1995, p. 42.) 8 But perhaps it would be better if I start my account from the beginning of the history of modern Greece. This history spans a period of 153 years (1821-1974) and is highly complex. It involves numerous wars, including two Balkan wars, two world wars and a civil war. To add to this complexity, all historical accounts of the period from 1950-1974 have been heavily censored, making an objective account of this period impossible without extensive research.2
One would need to focus exclusively on this subject to even begin to touch upon the different facets that are implicated, such as economics, strategic interests of the superpowers in the region, and domestic politics, to mention only a few. I will attempt to give a brief and simplified account of modern Greek history rather than an in-depth analysis of the events that occurred during this time period. My intention is to communicate the feeling of the times that affected the generations before me and to highlight the process of a people striving for independence and trying to find its voice.
The history of modern Greece is typical of the fate of small nations evolving in the periphery of the modern world; the country’s rise of national consciousness, its claims for political independence, economic and social autonomy, being intertwined with the interests the superpowers had vested in the area. The geological area now called Greece constituted for nearly two millennia an agglomerate of semi-independent, mostly agrarian settlements greatly influenced in their development by the rise and decline of multinational empires of which they were a part. Part of the Byzantine Empire for about 1000 years, they were annexed to the Ottoman empire in 1453. 3
The fall of Contantinople, which was the capital of the Byzantine Empire, in 1453 is considered the beginning of modern Greek history.
Under the Ottoman Empire (1453-1832)
Life under the Turks was hard. Though Christians had a certain degree of autonomy in conducting their religious affairs, they were at a disadvantage relative to the Muslim population.
A Christian was not allowed to bear arms and was disbarred from military service in lieu of which he had to pay a special tax, the haradj. In a court of law, a Muslim's word was always accepted over that of a Christian. A Christian could not marry a Muslim woman, and there was a strict prohibition against apostasy from Islam. Indeed, Christians who had embraced Islam and then reverted to Christianity, were, until well into the 19th century, invariably punished by death. These "neomartyrs" helped sustain
2 Doumanis, Mariella. Mothering in Greece: From Collectivism to Individualism. Academic Press, 1983, p. 125. 3 Ibid., p. 118. 9 the faith of the Orthodox populations during the centuries of Ottoman rule. 4
The biggest hardship that Christians had to bear was the janissary levy. All Christian families of the Ottoman Empire were required, at irregular intervals, to hand over to the Ottoman authorities a given proportion of their male children to serve, after being forcibly converted to Islam, as elite troops or civil servants.
3. The Dissolution of the Ottoman Empire
The rebellion of the Greeks within the Ottoman Empire which resulted in the establishment of an independent kingdom of Greece originated in the activities of the "Friendly Brotherhood", a patriotic conspiracy founded in Odessa in 1814. By that time, the desire for some form of independence was common among Greeks of all classes, whose Hellenism, or sense of Greek nationality, had long been fostered by the Greek Orthodox Church, by the survival of the Greek language, and by the administrative arrangements of the Ottoman Empire. Their economic progress and the impact of Western revolutionary ideas further intensified their Hellenism.5
4 "Greece: History: Greece Under Ottoman Rule: Disadvantages for non-Muslims." Britannica Online.
The revolt began in March 1821.
Within a year the rebels had gained control the Peloponnese, and in January 1822 declared the independence of Greece. The Turks attempted three times (1822-24) to invade the Peloponnese but were unable to retrieve the area… Internal rivalries, however, prevented the Greeks from extending their control and from firmly consolidating their position in the Peloponnese.6
Civil war broke out between the guerrilla leader and the head of the government, at the end of which a year later the head of the government was firmly established as the leader. By this time, however,
The entire revolution was gravely threatened by the arrival of the Egyptian forces… which had been sent to aid the Turks…The Greek cause was saved by the intervention of the European powers…who saw in the Greek struggle for independence an opportunity to curtail the Ottoman influence… Favoring the formation of an autonomous Greek state, they offered to mediate between the Turks and the Greeks; when the Turks refused, Great Britain, France and Russia sent their naval fleets to aid the Greeks... A Greek-Turkish settlement was finally determined by the European powers at a conference in London; they adopted a London protocol (Feb. 3, 1830), declaring Greece an independent monarchical state under their protection.7
Greece's existence as an independent state gained formal recognition in a treaty between Bavaria and the Great, or "Protecting" Powers. Significantly, the Greeks themselves were not party to the treaty. Greece now, formally at least, became a sovereign state, and the Greeks were thus the first of the subject peoples of the Ottoman Empire to gain full independence. But the state contained within its borders scarcely one-third of the Greek populations of the Middle East, and the struggle to expand the nation's borders was to dominate the first century of independent statehood. Only in 1947, with the incorporation of the Dodecanese Islands (a group of islands off the southwestern coast of Turkey hitherto under Italian rule), were Greece's present borders established. Moreover, the sovereignty of the small Greek state was not absolute. The Protecting Powers had determined that Greece should be a monarchy, and they retained certain ill-defined rights of intervention.8
6 Ibid. 7 Ibid. 8 "Greece: History: BUILDING THE NATION, 1832-1913" Britannica Online.
The “Great Idea” was “a visionary nationalist aspiration that was to dominate foreign relations and, indeed, to a significant extent, determine the domestic politics of the Greek state for much of the first century of its independent existence.”9
Kolettis first formulated the Great Idea during the debates that preceded the promulgation of the 1844 constitution. Though the formulation was new, the aspiration wasn’t.
The concept was deeply rooted in the Greek popular psyche, nurtured as it was by the prophecies and oracles that had kept alive hopes of eventual emancipation from the Turkish yoke during the dark centuries they were enslaved to the Turks. In essence, the Great Idea envisaged the restoration of the Christian Orthodox Byzantine Empire, with its capital once again established in Constantinople, which would be achieved by incorporating within the bounds of a single state all the areas of Greek settlement in the Middle East.”10
PONTUS
4. The Ottoman Empire - detail
Greek populations were widely dispersed throughout the Ottoman Empire. There were Greek populations settled in Constantinople (Istanbul); around the shores of the Sea of Marmara; along the shores of western Asia Minor, particularly in the region of Smyrna (Izmir); in central Anatolia (Cappadocia); and in the Pontus region of northeastern Asia Minor11.
9 "Greece: History: Building the Nation: ”The Great Idea." Britannica Online. http://www.eb.com:180/cgi-bin/g?DocF=macro/5002/70/47.html 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid. 12 The Great Idea… was to be achieved through a combination of military means… and an educational program… aimed at instilling a sense of Hellenic identity in the large Greek populations that remained under Ottoman rule. The University of Athens (founded 1837) attracted people from all parts of the Greek world to be trained as students and apostles of Hellenism.12
The First Years of Independence (1832-1911)
Greece, despite the rhetoric of politicians, was in no position to engage in a military confrontation with the Ottoman Empire, no matter how weakened it was.
Allies and the reinvigoration of economy were the necessary preconditions of a successful military challenge. The latter came about under the inspired leadership of Eleutherios Venizelos… A charismatic figure who was adored and execrated in equal measure, Venizelos dominated the Greek politics during the first third of the 20th century.13
He was propelled to the forefront after a short-lived coup staged by a group of disaffected army officers.
They demanded thorough reform, which included the removal of the royal princes, who were held to favor the promotion of their own protégés, from the armed forces. The failed military intervention compelled the discredited political establishment to make way for Venizelos, who had not been compromised by involvement in the petty politics of the kingdom… His power legitimized through elections held in 1910, Venizelos plunged into a wide-ranging program of constitutional reform, political modernization, and economic development, which he combined with an energetic espousal of the Great Idea... The moderately reformist policies he introduced inhibited the development of the powerful agrarian and socialist movements that developed elsewhere in the Balkans. British naval and French military missions were brought in to overhaul the armed forces. Venizelos' continuing political ascendancy was confirmed with a sweeping victory in elections held in 1912.14
The Balkan Wars (1912-1913)
“When, in 1911, Italy attacked the Ottoman Empire, in the process occupying the largely Greek-populated Dodecanese islands, Greece, no less than the other
12 Ibid. 13 "Greece: History: Building the Nation, “The early Venizelos years." Britannica Online.
Greece's situation differed from that of its Balkan neighbors, whose populations were relatively compactly settled within the Balkan peninsula. The Greeks alone were widely dispersed throughout the Middle East and hence were vulnerable to Turkish reprisals in the event of a war. Nonetheless, Greece could scarcely stand aside from the complex of alliances being formed among the Balkan states. These culminated in October 1912 in the First Balkan War, with Greece, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Montenegro declaring war on the Ottoman Empire. In contrast to earlier Balkan crises, the Great Powers did not intervene, and the heavily outnumbered Ottoman forces were forced into rapid retreat.16
In Thrace, the Bulgarians defeated the main Ottoman forces, advancing to the outskirts of Constantinople and laying siege to Adrianople (Edirne). In Macedonia, the Serbian army achieved a great victory at Kumanovo that enabled it to capture Bitola and to join forces with the Montenegrins and enter Skopje. The Greeks, meanwhile, occupied Salonika (Thessaloníki) [the most important port in the northern Aegean, coveted by Bulgaria as well] and advanced on Ioánnina. In Albania, the Montenegrins besieged Shkodër, and the Serbs entered Durrës.17
Under a peace treaty signed in London (May 30, 1913), the Ottoman Empire lost almost all of its remaining European territory. Albanian independence was insisted upon by the European powers, and Macedonia was to be divided among the Balkan allies.18
The Balkan alliance was always a somewhat fragile affair in view of rivalries over Macedonia. Bulgaria, in particular, felt that its sacrifices had been in vain and turned against its erstwhile allies Greece and Serbia… This brief Second Balkan War (June to July 1913) led to the Treaty of Bucharest (August 1913), in which Bulgaria was forced to acknowledge the acquisition by Greece and Serbia of the lion's share of Macedonia. At the same time the formal union of Crete with the kingdom was recognized, although Greek hopes for the annexation of northern Epirus, with its large
15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. 17 "Balkan Wars" Britannica Online.
During the First and Second Balkan Wars, Greece increased its land area by 70 percent, and its population from 2.8 to 4.8 million. However, “the newly acquired citizens” were not all ethnic Greeks; they included substantial Jewish, Slavic, Muslim, Vlach, and Gypsy populations. 20
The integration of "New" with "Old" Greece, the conservative core of the original kingdom, was not to be an easy process, but the problems it created did not emerge until much later. At the conclusion of hostilities, Greece was gripped by euphoria. Under the leadership of Venizelos, the aspirations enshrined in the Great Idea appeared to be within reach.21
World War I & Destruction of Smyrna in Minor Asia (1914-1922)
The sense of national unity that had characterized the early Venizelos years gave way to rancor and vindictiveness that was to poison the country's political life throughout World War I and the period after that. Greece was riven by the "National Schism," a division of the country into irreconcilable camps supporting either King Constantine I or his prime minister, Venizelos. The immediate grounds for tension were differences between the king and the prime minister as to Greece's alignment during World War I, although there were deeper causes underlying the split.22
King Constantine, who was married to the sister of the German emperor, insisted that Greece remain neutral when WW I broke out (August 1914). However, the Allies (Britain, France and Russia) put pressure on Venizelos to join forces with them against Germany and Turkey. As the war dragged on, the Allies made heedless promises, which they couldn’t hope to fulfill, including land in Asia Minor. Despite his victory in elections, Venizelos resigned twice as a result of disagreements with the king. “The breach between the two became irrevocable when Venizelos established a rival government in Thessaloniki, which, like most of "New Greece," was passionately loyal to him… The allies installed Venizelos as prime minister of a formally united but bitterly divided Greece.”23
Venizelos brought Greece into the war and the Greek troops served with distinction on the Allies’ side. In May of 1919, Greece was permitted to land
19 "Greece: History: Building the Nation, “The early Venizelos years." Britannica Online.
Greece was a major beneficiary of the peace treaty with the defeated Ottoman Empire (August 1920). However, for the Turkish nationalists, galvanized by the leadership of Kemal Atatürk, the treaty was from the outset a dead letter and the Greek landings a challenge they were prepared to meet… The military situation in Asia Minor steadily deteriorated; the Greek army had reached close to Ankara when a Turkish nationalist offensive resulted in a dramatic rout of the Greek armies in Asia Minor (September 1922). Much of Smyrna was burned, and many of the Greek and Armenian inhabitants were massacred. Tens of thousands of destitute Greek refugees fled to the kingdom. Thus ended a 2,500-year Greek presence in Asia Minor.24
Mustafa Kemal, who believed that Turkey needed a modern government in place of the absolute sultanate, was now a national hero. The Greek invasion was just the cause he needed to win public support. The sultanate was abolished and Turkey became a republic.
The outcome of the failed Greek invasion and the revolution in Turkey was the Treaty of Lausanne (July 1923). An exchange of populations between Greece and the newly established Turkish Republic was agreed upon to prevent any future disputes. The criterion employed was religion, one consequence of which was the exchange of many tens of thousands of Turkish-speaking Orthodox Christians for Greek-speaking Muslim. 25
The Great Idea was laid to rest. Almost 1.3 million Greeks left Turkey and almost 400,000 Turks left Greece. Many Greeks abandoned a privileged life in Asia Minor for one of penury in shantytowns in Greece.
Ernest Hemmingway, who was at the time a journalist working as a war correspondent for the Toronto Star and International News Service, sent the following correspondence from Smyrna in September 1922:
The whole city is on fire, dead bodies everywhere, mothers standing on the docks, holding their dead babies in their arms, day after day, not eating, not accepting any medical help, wailing every night. The sea is full of corpses while the British, French, American and Japanese battle ships stand watching, their sailors playing poker on the decks. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed,
24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 16 more than a million forced out of their homes across the sea to Greece.26 Interwar period (1922 - 1940)
Though the exchange of populations put a tremendous strain on the Greek economy and caused great hardship for the individuals concerned, their integration into Greek society was successful. “The remaining large estates were broken up to provide smallholdings for the newcomers, and rural Greece became a society of peasant smallholders, which made for social stability albeit not for economic efficiency.”27
The period from 1922 to 1940 was a time of tremendous political turmoil. The political climate was poisoned by the bitter feud between the supporters of Venizelos and the monarchy. The army acted as the arbiter of political life during this period, which was marked by a series of elections interchanged by military coups as different fractions of the army tried to restore to power Venizelos, who formally established a republic in 1923, and the King, who was in exile.
The end of this period found King George II restored to his throne following a distinctly dubious plebiscite. On his return to Greece, the king was in a conciliatory mood; however, elections produced a deadlock between the two main parliamentary blocs, the Venizelists and the royalists. Both blocs engaged in secret negotiations with the communists, hitherto an insignificant force, who now, with 15 seats in the 300-seat parliament, held the balance of power.
Public disillusionment with the endless intrigues of the political world was exacerbated when the news leaked that the main political blocs were secretly negotiating with the communists. When the nonpolitical figure appointed by the king to head a caretaker government charged with overseeing the elections died, he was replaced as prime minister by General Ioannis Metaxas, a marginal figure on the far right of the political spectrum in power. Metaxas exploited labor unrest and a threatened general strike to persuade the king to suspend key articles of the constitution. Although the suspension purported to be temporary, parliament did not reconvene until 10 years later. Backed by the army and tolerated by the king, the Metaxas dictatorship lasted four and a half years.28
26 Germanos, Freddy, ”From Our Correspondent E. Hemingway.” Epsilon (from Eleutherotypia), No. 322, June 8, 1997, pp. 13-22. 27 "Greece: History: Greek History Since World War I" Britannica Online.
World War II (1940-1944)
War against Italy
At the outbreak of World War II, Metaxas tried to maintain neutrality, but Greece was increasingly subject to pressure from Italy, whose dictator Mussolini sought an easy military triumph to match those of his ally Hitler. A series of provocations culminated in the delivery of a humiliating ultimatum on October 28, 1940. Metaxas, reflecting the mood of the entire nation, rejected this without discussion. The Italians immediately invaded Greece from Albania but any hopes of a lightning military triumph were rapidly dashed. Within weeks not only had the Italians been driven from Greek territory, but Greek forces had pushed on to occupy much of "Northern Epirus," the area of southern Albania with a substantial Greek minority.29
German Occupation (1941-1944)
Soldiers walking for days at a time, in knee deep snow, cold, hungry, their bodies covered with lice, fighting till the end, defending mountaintops. Sirens going off in the middle of the night, people running to the shelters for cover, bombings, black outs, hunger, disease, death. War was a devastating experience.30
While accepting token British military aid, Metaxas, until his death, was anxious to avoid provoking German intervention in the conflict. However, his successor agreed to accept a British expeditionary force as it became apparent that Hitler's aggressive designs extended to the Balkans. But the combined Greek and British forces were able to offer only limited resistance when the German juggernaut rolled across the borders (April 6, 1941). By the beginning of June the country was overrun and subject to a harsh tripartite German, Italian, and Bulgarian occupation. King George II and his government-in-exile fled to the Middle East. The requisitioning of food stocks resulted in a terrible famine during the winter of 1941-42, in which as many as 100,000 people died. In 1943 virtually the entire Jewish population was deported to death camps in Germany. A devastatingly high rate of inflation added to the miseries and humiliations of everyday life. Almost from the outset of the occupation, acts of resistance were recorded. These took a more systematic form after the Communist Party founded
29 Ibid. 30 Personal accounts of people who survived. 18 the National Liberation Front (EAM), whose military arm was known under the initials ELAS. Although the communists had been a marginal force, EAM/ELAS became the largest resistance organization… Other groups came into being, the most important of which, the National Republican Greek League (EDES), opposed, as did EAM/ELAS, the return of the king upon liberation. With the support of a British military mission, the guerrillas engaged in some spectacular acts of resistance, the most notable of which was the destruction of the Gorgopotamos viaduct, which carried the railway line from Thessaloniki to Athens.31
Some say that the resistance Hitler was met with in Greece and the Sahara desert was the beginning of the end, for with all the delay winter caught up with his troops in Russia and his plans deteriorated. Hundreds of men and women suspected of being part of the Greek resistance were captured, tortured and executed by the Gestapo. Whole villages were exterminated in retaliation for acts of resistance.
While some risked their lives though sabotaging the German army, others were busy making money, collaborating with the Germans. These collaborators gave members of the resistance up in exchange for money and access to the scarce food supplies, which in turn they sold to people for enormous amounts of money, or in exchange for gold coins, jewelry, art, and anything of value.
Civil War (1944-1945 and 1946-1949)
The devastating effects of the civil war can still be felt in Greece today. As mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, the historical accounts of this period have been censored heavily for decades. Thus, descriptions of events, which have been documented as objective historical accounts such as the ones below from encyclopedia Britannica, are one-sided descriptions. In addition, as with all such attempts of historical accounts, they have been stripped of any emotions they entail.
In an effort to reveal the complexity of this period I present here two different viewpoints of the same events. One is a description taken from the encyclopedia Britannica while the other a description taken from a commemorative issue on the era of a Greek newsmagazine, which gives us more of a feeling of the atmosphere of that period.
Encyclopedia Britannica writes,
Besides fighting the Axis occupation, the resistance organizations jockeyed for postwar power. During the winter of 1943-44 civil war broke out in the mountains of Greece between EAM/ELAS and the
31 Ibid. 19 much smaller EDES, which, however, enjoyed the support of the British authorities, who had become increasingly alarmed at the prospect of a post-liberation seizure of power by the communists. Not for the first time in Greek history, the country's fate was to be determined by the Great Powers. The British prime minister, Winston Churchill, eager to see King George II restored to his throne, engaged in the summer and autumn of 1944 in some high- level negotiations with the Soviet leader, Joseph Stalin, trading Russian predominance in postwar Romania for British predominance in Greece. True to the spirit of this deal, it would seem, Stalin gave no encouragement to the Greek communists to make a bid for power when the Germans began their withdrawal, even though by this time, they were by far the most powerful force in occupied Greece.32
On October 12, 1944, people surged into the streets of Athens cheering, laughing, crying, greeting the arrival of the British troops, rejoicing over the end of the war. The exhilaration would not last long. On December 3, 1944, Athens witnessed the worst bloodshed in its history, marking the beginning of a civil war.
The Greek Civil War was a two-stage conflict during which Greek communists unsuccessfully tried to gain control of Greece… After eliminating all of its political and guerrilla rivals except the EDES in 1944, EAM-ELAS set up a provisional government in the Greek mountains that by implication disowned both the Greek king and his government-in-exile. Upon the German troops' withdrawal from Greece in October, the communists and royalist Greek guerrillas were brought together under British auspices in an uneasy coalition government in Athens. But this government disintegrated a few weeks later when the communist members of the coalition refused to disband their guerrilla force. A bitter civil war broke out in Athens on December 3, which the British military forces managed to suppress with great difficulty, after EAM-ELAS had overrun virtually all of Greece except Athens and Thessaloniki. The communists accepted defeat and the disbanding of their forces, and a general election was held in March 1946. The communists and their followers abstained from the voting, however, and a royalist majority was returned. A plebiscite was held in September 1946, which restored the Greek king to the throne. During 1946 a full- scale guerrilla war [which lasted until 1949] was reopened by the communists, who had gone underground.33
32 Ibid. 33 "Greece: History: Greek Civil War" Britannica Online.
G. A. Leodaritis34, a Greek journalist who lived through the above-mentioned events, gives a different account.
According to him, on October 18, 1944, the prime-minister George Papandreou arrived in Athens accompanied by Ronald Scoby, the commander of the British and Greek forces (regular and guerrilla). That same day the central committee of EAM also arrived from the mountains in Athens, issuing a proclamation that underlined EAM’s previous compliance with the agreements it had signed and its conformity with the government orders not to come into Athens. It also underlined the existence of EAM by making the army of ELAS available to the national government for the completion of the liberation.
According to this journalist, the date of the proclamation and its statements show the dual rule of Greece; that of the Papandreou government and of EAM, each of which controlled different regions of Greece.
What puzzled the government and the British was what to do with the armed forces of EAM—they had 50,000 regular soldiers that doubled in number with the reserve forces, with regular infantry armament, mortars and a few machine-guns. If there were to be a national government there needed to be a national army that would be non-partisan.
EAM did not disagree with this condition but had its own concerning the officers of the new national army, as well as the duration of the Papandreou government that was in the minority; EAM wanted to know when a plebiscite on the monarchy and elections would be held.
On November 5th, after talking with Scoby, Papandreou announced the demobilization of the guerrilla groups of ELAS and EDES that was to be carried out on December 10th, promising that the regular officers of the guerrilla forces would return to the regular army. He appointed Alexander Othoneo as the commander of the new army, a man whom the left accepted and the right tolerated. Othoneos, however, quit ten days later in reaction to Scoby’s interference. Not willing to accept the role of the British, he declared, “if I am the Commander-In-Chief, I will only cooperate with the prime-minister.”
Meanwhile, there was a heavy battle between the moderates and the diehards in all the parties involved. Demonstrations and rallies continued and the walls filled with graffiti. Papandreou despaired at times, but he kept trying to find a solution that would be acceptable to all.
The left was justifiably concerned about their safety. They asked for a purge of the army, the police and the intelligence service from extremists, and the
34 Leodaritis, G.A., “How we arrived at the confrontation: The negotiations between the government and EAM for disarmament and the December tragedy.” Seven Days, (from The Daily), December 4, 1994, pp. 4-5. 21 demobilization of a right wing brigade, fearing that they would fall victim to their opponents once they disarmed. Fear and mistrust were mutual for both parties. The communist party wanted government by the people and not a king, which was the basic reason for the confrontation that was to come, although the pretext was the disbanding of the right wing brigade.
The negotiations continued with great difficulties. The government finally accepted that the right wing brigade be disbanded along with ELAS, but the solution was rejected by Churchill. Later it was known that General Compton MacKenzy, a former head of Intelligence Service in the UK, told the secretary of EAM, Dimitri Partsalidi, “Churchill remains imperial all his life. Being such he associated with Papandreou. When you got in the vanguard of anti-monarchism you helped him out with his royalist plans.”
All parties went back to the negotiating table and on November 27 came up with another solution. The right brigade and one of EDES would remain, but so would one of ELAS with equal men power. The plan also included trials for the collaborators and, purging of the machinery of government.
Then, at the last minute, one of the members of the EAM negotiating team, Zevgos, came back to the table demanding that the right brigade disband. According to Papandreou, Zevgos was so pale he looked like he was following orders. According to the communist party, Papandreou had changed what they had agreed upon when he wrote it down.
In the next few days efforts to form a new government were made. Papandreou was willing to quit if that would help normalize the situation, but Churchill intervened once more, showing he was determined to have a confrontation. “It is no time for postponements,” he said “I want Papandreou at the steering-wheel.”
And so it was, according to Leondaritis that we arrived at the confrontation of December 3rd.
Dimitri Kesel, a photographer who was working for LIFE magazine at the time, and who witnessed the events of those days, wrote:
Sunday December 3, 1944. Sunny day. Thousands of people holding flags and placards swarm the streets, heading for Syntagma Square, in between the British tanks to protest for the disarmament of EAM. The size of the crowd has surprised even the organizers. Late last night the government recalled the permit for the demonstration but the organizers felt it was too late to call it off so they decided to go ahead with it. Men, women and adolescents form a dense but peaceful crowd that’s standing shouting rhythmically slogans of EAM. The police force that has been ordered to stop the demonstration has formed a ring around them. Suddenly from the roofs of the Police Headquarters and the old palace squirts of machine-gun fire start falling, murderous on the 22 unarmed crowd. The fire lasts for many minutes. It stops. It starts again. Panic, indignation, moaning of the injured and screams of rage mingle in an indescribable confusion. The crowd falls on the ground but the police continue to shoot. The shooting stops. The crowd gets up and starts tending to the wounded, but the police start shooting at them again. When the shooting stops, wounded and injured lie on the asphalt road. After a while the streets are disserted. A few men and women are leaving wooden crosses they have knocked together where people have died while others are gathering in tin cans the blood that has been spilled on the street. 35
The next day 28 people were reported dead and over 140 injured. The police commissioner admitted to a journalist that he ordered the violent dispersal of the demonstrators following the orders he had.
An even larger crowd has gathered in the streets to accompany the dead to the burial ground. This time no uniform has come to disturb the funeral procession that follows the coffins to the cemetery going from one end of the city to the other. The funeral procession stops where people were shot and everyone kneels in a silent prayer. Some are holding placards that have been written with the blood of the victims. “When people are faced with the danger of tyranny they have to chose between chains and guns.” The civil war has begun. A well-dressed man standing at the entrance of the cemetery was speaking in English to a group of British and American journalists: “It is a day of grief for the Greeks. Everyone, left and right, is grieving. We buried our dead often these last four years, too often. They were victims of German retaliation, victims of famine. Our people were dying but the hope for liberation and a brighter day was alive. Then you arrived, the allies. The Germans had left and we rejoiced. We believed that the years of mourning were gone, that the days of joy and laughter were here again. But today, we mourn once again.” he said showing the coffins that were passing by. “From the way I talk you might think I’m a communist, but I’m not. I belong to what’s called the upper middle class. I am a businessman. Above all though I am Greek and I can no longer bear to see Greeks getting killed. We have always had our differences but we had our way to solve them.” 36
The following day Churchill ordered Scoby to mobilize all his forces against ELAS. British parachute jumpers took over the Acropolis and the main offices of the Communist Party. The streets were empty except for the dead; bodies were everywhere. The sound of exploding bombshells joined the sounds of rifles and machine guns as most of the city fell under the control of ELAS. The right wing
35 Kesel Dimitris “Bloody Sunday” Seven Days (from The Daily), December 4, 1994, pp. 7-10. 36 Ibid., pp. 11-12. 23 forces, together with the Papandreou government and the British forces joined to fight ELAS.
On December 25th, Churchill, who was being attacked both in England and the US for the role Britain was playing in this war, arrived in Athens to try to get the two sides back to the negotiating table. Kessel, the only photographer who had flash bulbs left, was at that meeting. According to his account, while he was in the room photographing the parties that had gathered around the table, Churchill got annoyed. “Photograph the Greeks, it’s their show. Don’t photograph me!”37
Two days later Churchill stated that he was determined that the whole area be cleared of all armed forces not under the control of a recognized government. On January 15, 1945, there was a cease-fire.
Athens is an unlucky city. Untouched by the German occupation, many of its buildings lie in ruins now from the civil war. The Athenians swarmed the streets today looking lost. Others were looking for food, others for their relatives that had been missing since the fighting began. On the outskirts of Athens bodies in decay lay in a row waiting to be recognized. Women holding a handkerchief to their nose walked among the rows looking for their loved ones. Many days after I had left the city I had with me this smell of death.38
The Varkiza Agreement, signed on February 12, 1945, provided for the disarmament of ELAS. Despite the agreement, people belonging to leftist organizations were still considered a “threat to national safety” and continued to be under strict surveillance by the secret service of the police. Feeling betrayed by their country and the leadership of their movement, and fearing for their lives, many people fled to the mountains once more, deciding not to surrender their guns.
According to Encyclopedia Britannica’s account,
In October 1946 the communists established a Democratic Army, which they controlled, and a year later, Provisional Democratic Government. Though heavily outnumbered, the communists were able, with the logistical support from the newly established communist regimes to the north, coupled with skillful use of guerrilla tactics, to control a wide area of northern Greece for a substantial period of time. Following the declaration of the Truman Doctrine in March 1947, which pledged support for "free peoples" in their fight against internal subversion, the tide gradually began to turn, as the United States, assuming Britain's former mantle as Greece's chief external patron, provided military equipment and advice. American
37 Kesel Dimitris “Churchill in Athens” Seven Days (from The Daily), December 4, 1994, pp. 21- 23. 38 Ibid., p. 23. 24 intervention and the consequences of the break between Tito and Stalin, combined with factionalism and altered military tactics on the left, all contributed to the defeat of the communist guerrillas in the summer of 1949. 39
“On October 16, 1949, the Greek communist broadcasting station announced the end of open hostilities, and many of the remaining communist fighters fled the country into neighboring Albania.”40 Years later many of them were transferred to Tuskendy, in the USSR. Families were separated for decades, as the communist party was not legalized until 1974.
“It is estimated that more than 50,000 combatants died in the conflict, and more than 500,000 Greeks were displaced from their homes by the fighting”41. Many atrocities were committed on both sides. “The brutality that characterized the civil war left a lasting legacy of bitterness between segments of the Greek population.”42
During the civil war many left wing people were arrested, interrogated and tortured; many of these were the same people the Gestapo had tortured just a few years earlier. With the help of other citizens who were forced to cooperate being under surveillance themselves, the police continued to gather information about every detail of their lives—where they lived, who they hung out with, what they read, what they did, what they said. People continued to spy on one another for years, creating an atmosphere of total distrust.
In the late 1980s the Greek government destroyed millions of top secret files that the secret service had been keeping on left wing people since the end of World War II. Many of the fighters whom these files were on fought to keep the records from being destroyed as a reminder of the past and in honor of their life struggles and all those who had died, but the files were burned in the name of “national consensus”. A few were salvaged in secrecy and given back to the people they concerned43. (See appendix for extracts from a top-secret file.)
39 "Greece: History: Greek History Since World War I: Civil war and its legacy." Britannica Online.
Post-Civil-War Years (1950-1967)
Greece emerged from the travails of the 1940s in a state of devastation. Nonetheless, if the post-civil-war political regime had a distinctly authoritarian hue, from the mid-1950s Greece underwent a rapid, if unevenly distributed, process of economic and social development, far surpassing its communist neighbors to the north in standard of living… Following a brief centrist interlude, the right maintained a firm grip on power between 1952 and 1963 and was none too scrupulous about the means it employed to retain it. By the early 1960’s, however, the electorate, which now included women, had become increasingly disenchanted with the repressive legacy of the civil war and looked for change. This was offered by Georgios Papandreou, whose Center Union Party secured a sweeping victory in 1964.44
Junta (1967-1974)
A common belief in Greece about the junta is that Greece was important strategically to the US, which maintained military bases in the country and could not afford to let it turn toward the left for fear it would fall under Russia’s influence. This belief is supported by articles such as the one in Time magazine, in which we read, “The US has given its tacit and sometimes overt blessings to the junta on the grounds that the colonels control a sector vital to NATO’s defense.” 45
According to Encyclopedia Britannica,
During the civil war and after, Greece's armed forces had come to look upon themselves not only as the country's guardians against foreign aggression but also as its defenders against internal subversion, of which they were to be the final judge. They increasingly viewed Georgios Papandreou as a stalking horse for his much more radical American-educated son, Andreas Papandreou, who had returned to Greece and joined his father's government. On April 21, 1967 middle-ranking officers led by Colonel Georgios Papadopoulos, launched a coup designed to thwart an expected Center Union victory in elections planned for May of that year. The conspirators took advantage of a prolonged political crisis, which had its origins in a dispute between the young King Constantine II and his prime minister, Georgios Papandreou.46
44 "Greece: History: Greek History Since World War I: Civil war and its legacy." Britannica Online.
The prolonged crisis that Encyclopedia Britannica is referring to is being referred to in Greece as “the defection” - a number of members of the parliament belonging to the Central Union party defected to the right wing party thus bringing the fall of the Papandreou government.
This is a chapter of history that has continued to affect Greek politics as the people involved in that conflict have remained in the political scene of the country playing a central role. The details of what went on during that period are not know though rumors about members of the parliament being bought and foreign powers being behind the scenes are in abundance.
In December 1967, after a failed countercoup, King Constantine went into exile and Papadopoulos assumed the role of regent. Alternating between policies that were heavy-handed and absurd, the " Colonels," as the military junta came to be known, misruled the country between 1967 and 1974. For a third time within a few decades, left wing people were persecuted, captured, subjected to brutal torture, jailed and exiled.
The junta held at least 2,000 political prisoners in desolate camps on the barren Aegean Islands, and ugly rumors about the torture of political suspects circulated in Athens and throughout the world. The junta gave those reports credence by choosing to quit the Council of Europe rather than permit it to investigate the situation.47
On November 25, 1973, following student protests that were violently suppressed, Papadopoulos was toppled from within the junta and replaced by general Demetrios Ioannidis, the head of the much-feared military police.
An account of the events that led to this countercoup recently aired on Greek TV, in a news magazine, which interviewed Greek and US officials and military officers from that era.
On November 10, 1973, after six and a half years in power, dictator Papadopoulos, self appointed President of Democracy, swears in a government headed by the former politician Spiros Markezinis, in an effort to move towards a controlled liberalization and normalization of the political life of the country. Military law is lifted and the dictatorship announces general elections for February 1974… These plans however will be thwarted by an unpredictable factor; the student movement.48
Demonstrations by students in the streets of Athens to protest the postponing of student elections till after the general ones led to a sit-in of the Polytechnic
47 Ibid., p. 8 48 The Black Box, TV news magazine, program aired on MEGA channel on November 17, 1999. 27 School of Athens. Workers and other citizens then joined the sit in, which gaining a momentum of its own turned into a general uprising against the junta.
On November 17, 1973 military tanks, ordered by Papadopoulos himself, overriding the Markezini government he had appointed, rolled over the gates and the bodies of those who were standing on and behind them, thus ending the three-day sit-in.
A week later, Papadopoulos was toppled by Ioannidis in a countercoup that, according to unverified testimony of military and political officials of that era, was instigated by the CIA.
[Minister of the Markezinis government] Ioannidis was the person the CIA had chosen as its liaison since the end of 1972, i.e., since Papadopoulos had started to take himself too seriously… On November 22, a directive arrived from the State Department signed by Kissinger asking the President to allow the US planes to refuel in Crete so that the war in Kypur could continue despite the cease- fire. Papadopoulos refused and was toppled a week later by Ioannidis. That date however had been set long before… Ioannidis, it seems, did indeed have the green light from Washington but for a much more substantial reason. The goal was the toppling of Makarios [president of Cyprus], Washington’s and Ioannidis’ great enemy. Makarios was in no danger from Markezinis, so another vehicle needed to be found to overthrow him. That vehicle was Ioannidis.49
Coup in Cyprus and Turkish Invasion (July 15 - August 16, 1974)
[David Poper, former US ambassador in Cyprus] Makarios was certainly no ally of ours in that he was resolutely third world trying to stay out of the cold war conflict. The trouble was, many of us at that time were steeped in the John Foster Dallas ideology, “He who is not with us is against us”.50
According to encyclopedia Britannica’s account, “Ioannidis seeking a nationalist triumph, plotted the coup in Cyprus aiming at assassinating Makarios III, the archbishop and president of Cyprus since 1960, and establishing union with Greece.”51
On July 15, 1974, a detachment of the National Guard, led by officers from mainland Greece, laid the presidential palace in ruins, but Makarios narrowly escaped. Nikos Sampson was proclaimed president of Cyprus.
49 Ibid. 50 Ibid. 51 "Cyprus: History: THE REPUBLIC OF CYPRUS: Turkish invasion." Britannica Online.
The coup triggered the invasion of the northern part of the island by Turkey, which landed its forces in Kyrenia with the expressed aim of overturning Sampson's government. “Vigorous resistance was offered, but the Turks were successful in establishing a bridgehead around Kyrenia and linking it with the Turkish sector of Nicosia.”52 5. Cyprus
Turkey, together with Britain and Greece, was a guarantor of the 1960 constitutional settlement that had established Cyprus’s independence, yet had in the makings, it seems, from November 1967, a plan to partition the island if an opportunity occurred.
[Former US ambassador in Ankara] They [Turkish officials] showed me a map, sort of inadvertently. It happened to be a map with a line drawn right across the middle from the North to the South in a slanting position [see red line on map of Cyprus] And I said, “What is this line?” And they looked a little embarrassed, and then they laughed and said, “Well, that’s where we’ll divide the island if it comes to that.53”
Back in Greece, Ioannidis' response to the Turkish invasion was to mobilize for war with Turkey.
I was closing the garage door when the sirens went off, signaling that Greece was going to war. I was terrified. I had never heard that deafening wail before. I had no idea what was happening. My mother came out and got me. She knew that sound all too well. Serious but calm, she explained to my sisters and me what was going on, and told us what we needed to do in order to prepare for war. There was a sense of panic in the grocery stores as people grabbed whatever they could off the shelves, while the store managers tried to regulate how much each family bought so there would be enough for everyone. The atmosphere in the city was tense as the men mounted buses, trains and boats to get to their
52 Ibid. 53 The Black Box, TV news magazine, program aired on MEGA channel on November 17, 1999. 29 military units. There was a sense of imminent disaster. The older generations knew what lay ahead if Greece were to engage in a full-scale war with Turkey.54
The mobilization proved chaotic and the regime, bitterly unpopular domestically and totally isolated diplomatically, collapsed on July 23rd. Konstantinos Karamanlis, a respected conservative political leader who had been part of the government in the late 1950s and early ‘60s, was summoned back from self- imposed exile in France to restore democracy.
“The three guarantor powers, Britain, Greece, and Turkey, as required by the treaty, met for discussions in Geneva, but it proved impossible to halt the Turkish advance until August 16. By that time Turkey controlled the northern 37 percent of the island.”55
Restoration of Democracy
I could hear from our house, which was on the way to the airport, the rhythmic chants of people who had gathered in the streets to welcome Karamanlis. People escorted him all the way to the presidential building, beeping their horns, cheering for him. The country’s future was in his hands.
Karamanlis defused the threat of outright war with Turkey, ensured that the army returned to the barracks, and, acknowledging the way in which opposition to the junta had brought together politicians of all political backgrounds, legalized the Communist Party, which had been outlawed in 1947. He moved rapidly to legitimize his power through elections held in November 1974, in which he secured a sweeping victory. In December of the same year, a referendum on the future of the monarchy resulted in a 69 percent vote against the monarchy and the return of King Constantine marking the most recent beginning of Greece as a Democratic Republic.56
Despite the strong anti-American, anti-NATO sentiments in the country due to the strong belief that the junta had been supported by the CIA and American politics, he got the country back into the military leg of NATO and started negotiations with the European Union for the country’s return.
I was 12 years old when democracy was restored in Greece and the long journey to healing the wounds began.
54 Personal memories. 55 "Cyprus: History: THE REPUBLIC OF CYPRUS: Turkish invasion." Britannica Online.
the patriarchy
I am the head of the family the captain of the ship
I vow to protect and provide for you You vow to serve, obey, and respect me
You can count on me to be there brave and fearless in the face of danger Show no emotion Think clearly Take charge
I count on you to be there and fulfill my every need Put your needs aside Yield Follow
Never talk back to me Never second-guess me Never raise your voice
Never give your opinion unless you are asked Never do anything that will shame me Never make me lose face
Dress decently Walk with your head down, eyes to the ground Don't sway your hips
Don't lose your virginity before you are married Don't look at anyone else after that
Adultery a necessary evil for me a deadly crime for you
Your ultimate purpose in life is to be
31 a good wife and mother
You're weak and in need of protection from the cruelty of the outside world i.e., men's beastly nature…
You're not as smart nor as capable
Watch out for my Ego I don't like it getting hurt especially by a woman...
I am the man here the one with the balls
I have the power
Do as I say
You belong to me I'm free to do as I please be kind or abuse you
Beware
If you show any sign of independent spirit I will humiliate and BREAK you
32 Greek Culture
ar. It seems like it has always been war. Mothers in the old days advised their daughters to stay low. "Your husband should know you from the Wwaist down!" they used to warn, which meant, “Don't reveal yourself. Don't let him know what you're thinking. You have to strategize to survive.” Men were advised to be on guard. "Be careful, women are sneaky. You have to keep a tight grip or else, before you know it, she'll have you wrapped around her finger, she’ll ‘sit on your neck’." It almost seems as if men were afraid of women so they oppressed them trying to create some safety for themselves. Who knows how it all started?
On a social level, men have more power than women do yet on another level we have all been oppressed and have all oppressed others. The oppressor and the oppressed, the powerful and the weak, the protector and the one in need of protection, are roles. Women and men have been stuck in their roles for ages, not recognizing that in different moments they occupy different roles and that all the roles exist within themselves.
If only we could gain more awareness and fluidity, notice when we are in one role or the other; be able to identify with them all. Bring in our hurt, our fear, our fury, our feelings of revenge, our longing to be loved and met. If only we could go beyond the stereotypes, leave the safety of our prescribed roles and venture into the unknown, discovering ourselves in each other. If only we could relate more through our hearts than through our roles... Traditional Culture
Allan Johnson says, “patriarchal masculinity is an oppressive system that privileges the male gender and as such is problematic.”1 Greek traditional culture has elements of a patriarchal system.
Greek traditional culture was based on community life. People lived in small communities around which their lives were organized. Their survival depended upon the community's survival, and everyone worked for the whole.
One root of this went back to the time of the Byzantium (AD 330 - 1453). In order to maintain their theocratic power, the Byzantine emperors instituted tax laws that undermined the formation of strong lords and strengthened the individuality of the small villages, i.e., the whole community rather than individuals was responsible for paying the taxes. After the fall of Constantinople (modern Istanbul) in 1453, this taxation system was channeled to the Turkish administration through the various Greek intellectuals that the Sultan used in high offices.
1 Johnson, Allan. “Can Men Take Responsibility For Patriarchy?” Ms., Vol. VIII, No.3, November/December 1997, p. 63.
33
Yet another root of the importance of community in the traditional Greek culture has to do with the geological formation of the country. Eighty percent of the ground is mountainous, which resulted in a scarceness of goods. Thus were created small communities that were collectively responsible to the outside world.2
In traditional Greek culture, the individual was a member of a family, community which was part of a larger "in-group", which was part of a larger in-group community where life was collectively lived. The main goal was family survival; thus personal growth was subordinate to the group's needs. individual
Traditional culture was not a life of choices. Choices were limited, since one could not act outside of a defined role. Life was determined by following the norms that had been set collectively, had worked for hundreds of years, and had been passed down from generation to generation through stories, fairy tales, sayings, songs and superstitions.
The governing principle was interdependence, which led to the survival of the whole. The community as a collective gathered information concerning outside dangers and determined the best way to deal with them.3
Over time, people tried to solve new problems through trial and error and discovered that some solutions were more effective than others. Due to limited communication with the outside world, change was slow and the same solutions remained functional for many years. In time, the reasons that led to them were forgotten and the solutions were transformed into habits on the individual level and customs on the cultural level. Thus behavioral norms were formed, attitudes were organized, and value systems developed.4
Value systems, customs, norms, and clearly defined roles and ways of behaving created a context that tried to protect relationships from becoming exploitative and abusive.
Each person belonged to an "in-group" which included family members, friends, and friends of friends. Within this circle relationships were cooperative and interactions close and personal. Everyone was available to help others. The older generation took care of, advised, and taught the younger and the atmosphere
2 Doumanis, Mariella. Mothering in Greece: From Collectivism to Individualism. Academic Press, 1983.
3 Vassiliou G., Vassiliou V. "On Group Therapy Developments in Context: A Hellenic View.” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy. Vol. 34, No. 3, July 1984.
4 Vassiliou, George. “Explorations on the Transaction of Social Change, Family Life and Therapy Processes." The Human Context. Vol. V, No. I, 187, Spring 1973.
34 was one of trust, honesty, kindheartedness, and devotion. Outside of this circle one was free to be antagonistic, even unfair, and was expected to be cautious and suspicious.
Behavior within the in-group was defined by "philotimo" which was one of the values most highly prized in a person. Philotimo is a combination of different qualities. It includes being honest, polite, moral, proud, warmhearted, generous, treating others well, fulfilling one's duties and responsibilities toward one's family and community, having respect and gratitude for others, sacrificing oneself for others, and generally behaving the way one's circle of family and friends expect one to behave.5
Having philotimo meant that in time of need one was there to share whatever one had, even if it were very little. At the same time, the other one would not take unless she really needed to and took no more than was absolutely necessary for survival.
This value was the core of community life. It created the security that sharing resources provides while protecting relationships from becoming exploitative. As long as people accepted their roles, cooperation was automatic thanks to the behavioral norms and clearly defined roles. Relationships, including what was discussed with whom and the level of intimacy between people, were strictly defined by the roles.6
The most intimate and emotionally mutual relationship of the woman (identified with the roles of the mother-wife) was her relationship with her female neighbors. This was not necessarily a relationship with one woman, but with all the women who lived in that space. A woman turned to female neighbors to share her pain, look for help or advice, and to find consolation or justice.
Respectively, the man (identified with the roles of the father-husband) found support, advice, help, information, helping hands, money, and somewhere to share his pain in the coffee shop where men hang out.
Between spouses, there wasn't a lot of intimacy or tenderness. Spouses were tied together in their common goal of survival and operated through roles that had each of them struggling in separate realms. Pictorially, the relationship and roles appear as two people standing back to back, with the man facing outward toward the community and the woman facing inward toward the house. As a
5 Vassiliou G., Vassiliou V. "The Implicate Meaning of the Greek Concept of Philotimo." Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology. Vol. 4, No. 3, Sept. 1973, pp. 338-339.
6 Triandis H.C., McGuire, H., Saral T.B., Yang K., Loh W., Vassiliou V., "A Cross-Cultural Study of Role Perceptions," Triandis H.C., ed., The Analysis of Subjective Culture. John Wiley & Sons, Inc.,1972, pp. 263-269,
35 couple they watched out for each other, taking over where the other spouse was vulnerable.
The father was responsible for representing his family to the community. He was charged with providing shelter and food through cultivating the land, fishing, hunting or other labor, disciplining the children for things they did wrong outside the house, and defending his family against outside dangers, always in cooperation with the other men in the community. When necessary other men belonging to the same in-group stepped in and fulfilled his role.
The mother was responsible for the smooth functioning of the household in all its facets. She set up and maintained the home, prepared and stored food during different seasons, cooked, cleaned, cared for and taught the children, cared for everyone’s needs, and worked the land with her husband. She obeyed her husband, stayed quiet in front of him, and accepted whatever he told her to do. As with the men, other women belonging to the same in-group stepped in and fulfilled this role when necessary.
The role of the daughter from the moment she was born was to learn the role of the mother. This took place mainly through identification. The daughter replaced the mother when she was away from the house, thus preparing to become a mother herself. When she needed support she turned to her best friend, developing a mutually supportive relationship which prepared her for the "mother- neighbor" relationship. She won the father's favor without necessarily responding to his positive feelings for her (i.e., reciprocating his love), took care of him, had a good time and cried with him but at the same time was afraid of him, lied to and deceived him.7
The son turned to his mother for help, advice, support. He cooperated with her, expressed his gratitude, admired her, trusted her, and confided in her. He has a special emotional tie with his mother. The mother helped, admired and loved the son, but does not ask these things from him. In this relationship, the roles are not mutual: the mother gives, the son receives. In traditional culture, the relationship with the mother remains until death. "I can have many wives, I only have one mother" is a common saying that expresses the tie between mother and son.
The sisters were to act as a substitute for the mother for the brothers; however this was carried out not in the role of the sister but in that of the mother.
7 One can see here the dynamics of fear, deception, mistrust that underlie, in part, the relationships between women and men, of which I speak in the beginning of this chapter. This description is a conglomerate of responses to questions asked about the relationships people had with one another, which were part of research done in the early 70s on the Greek traditional culture. (See Triandis, H.C.; McGuire, H.; Saral, T.B.; Yang, K.; Loh, W.,;Vassiliou, V. "A Cross- Cultural Study of Role Perceptions," Triandis H.C., ed., The Analysis of Subjective Culture. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1972, pp. 263-269.)
36 The son related to his father mainly outside the house. The father was ready to punish disobedience, however he controlled rather than ordered. The son was to answer with obedience and express his gratitude. He asks his father for help and advice but is also afraid of him.
The relationship with the mother gives the son endless warmth and support while the relationship with the father secures social responsibility, contact with reality, a fighting spirit and the learning of particular skills that make up the male role.8
Traditionally, there was very little relating between spouses. The man was the head of the family and the woman obeyed and respected her husband. Conflicts that arose were solved by processes through the in-group and not within the family itself. The woman shared her complaints with her best friend. The best friend listened and encouraged her to be patient, pointing out the good qualities of her husband, while at the same time complaining to her own husband about the way his friend was treating his wife. The husband defended his friend to his wife, but then talked to his friend about changing his behavior, reminding him of his wife's good qualities.
The responsibility for bringing up and socializing children, that is, teaching the new generation the norms and ways of behaving that were necessary for their survival, belonged to the whole community. As soon as they were able to walk, children roamed the village in gradually widening circles doing various chores. Thus children stepped into one of the most important roles in the community, which was a powerful socializing role as well, that of the messenger, the carrier of news.
Children knew from a very young age the most important information that existed within the in-group and the community. People listened to them as they were usually the most informed.9 The concept of privacy did not exist in the traditional culture. Information traveled freely, since everyone was responsible for everyone else’s survival.
All the adults were responsible for the well being and socializing of the children. If a child got hurt, it was tended to by the adults nearest to it, as it was scolded if it did something wrong. Children were encouraged to identify with the aspects of people that were in agreement with the values, norms, and traditions of the community and not with their parents as such. Girls were brought up to become good wives and mothers and boys to become good husbands and fathers.
8 It’s interesting to me that the relationship structure did not provide the daughter with the same warmth and support. The daughter was brought up to marry and be loyal to her husband’s family so emotional ties with her family of origin were not encouraged or nurtured. 9 Vassiliou G., Vassiliou V. "Promoting Psychosocial Functioning and Preventing Malfunctioning." Pediatrician. Vol. II, 1982, pp. 90-98.
37 In the traditional Greek culture roles were gender specific and each had its privileges and responsibilities. One role was no less valuable than another. As long as one stayed within the boundaries of their role they were well respected and treated. All were honored for what they contributed. One could not survive without the other. A common saying expressing this was: "One hand washes the other and both the face."
When survival was the question, this culture worked well for people.
Forms of Sexism in Traditional Greek Culture
Before I talk about what I find difficult in the culture described above, I want to write a few words about its community spirit, which I treasure. Traditional Greek culture is based on community life, humanity, sharing, being there for one another in times of need, of sadness, and of joy. This community spirit, which is characteristic of many indigenous cultures, is struggling for survival in many modern cultures, therefore I feel it is important to recognize and value it wherever we feel its presence. Too much focus on individual well being kills community spirit while too much focus on community well being kills the individual spirit as well.
GENDER
As we have seen, roles in Greek traditional culture were attached to gender. While both roles were equally valued, both genders were not; men were valued more highly than women.
One place this is visible is the relationship structure within the family where the mother provided for the son’s emotional needs but not for the daughter’s. One can say that this was due to the different roles they had and were being prepared for, however, it also shows that men’s needs were taken care of in a way women’s needs weren’t.
We also see this in people’s reactions at childbirth where there was joy and celebration for a boy’s birth and sulking and disappointment for a girl’s birth. It was considered a woman's duty to give her husband a son.
Yet another place this is visible is in the way people talked about their children. In some areas of Greece one still hears people saying, "I have two children and a girl”, meaning they have two sons and a daughter.
38 One can say that the valuing of boy children over girl children has to do with how the traditional economy worked. In the past, boys meant income for the family since they were one more pair of hands to work. Girls meant more expenses, since the family had to provide a dowry in the form of a piece of land, a house, or money, for a daughter to marry. However this doesn’t change the fact that men were valued more and the attitudes and inequalities this created.
INTELLIGENCE
Traditionally, women were thought to be less intelligent than men and in less need of education. A woman's purpose in life was to get married and have children, so she didn't need to be educated. Feeling was considered the realm of women, while thinking was considered the realm of men, and thinking has traditionally been more highly valued than feeling.
SEXUALITY
In traditional thinking, men had sexual needs and urges that needed to be fulfilled and were expected to become sexually active when they were teenagers. If married men had affairs, though this behavior was not openly supported, it was seen as a natural consequence of their "maleness", i.e., their uncontrollable sexual urges, and women were expected to look the other way.
Women, on the other hand, weren't thought to have sexual needs and urges. They were expected to become sexually active only after marriage. If they did so earlier they were shamed, ostracized, and considered to be whores who were no longer eligible for marriage. Having a child out of wedlock or having an affair while married was a ticket out of the community. In some cases, it was a ticket to the cemetery, since the woman had to be killed to restore the family honor. If a woman was raped, the shame was on her. She was no longer eligible for marriage unless the rapist married her and thus restored her honor.
In traditional culture, there were good women and bad women, and everyone knew the difference. The definitions of good and bad are closely related to the Christian morality woven through Greek culture. Good women remained virgins until married and faithful to their husbands after marriage. They were chaste, modest, dressed and walked decently, and were good wives and mothers. Bad women were promiscuous, enjoyed sex, and showed it.
Prostitutes were shamed, ostracized and dishonored while the men having sex with them remained honorable and well respected members of the community.
39 POWER & ABUSE
In traditional culture, men held the power. Women had to respect and obey first their fathers and brothers and then their husbands. They had no say or control over their lives and bodies. Marriages were arranged by the families and often had nothing to do with the couple's desires. Men had a choice about whether or not they would go along with the matchmaking, while women did not.
From the viewpoint of the survival of the community, as we have seen, traditional culture looks functional, but from the viewpoint of the welfare of women and children, life was often extremely difficult due to the abuse of power. Even though the community tried to intervene in such cases, there was not much they could do if the abuser didn't stop. The man was the lord of his house. Women often had to live under the terror of physical beatings, incest, sexual abuse, and under the constant humiliation of having to do what they were told.
Modern Culture
Over the years social change started happening more rapidly than the culture could assimilate it. Technological advances like the radio, the telephone, and later the television exposed small communities that had been relatively closed to the influence of other cultures.
In addition, the extreme scarcity of goods forced people to move to the cities to find work, leaving behind their extended families and support systems. They had to face the inadequacy of their ways of dealing with life in the new situations they were faced with. Once the context changed, traditional values and ways of relating and problem solving no longer worked. People were thrown into deep waters. Some drowned while others learned to swim.
My mother grew up in a different world than her mother, and I grew up in a different world than she did. Greek culture has transformed over the years and now it seems that the roles have expanded and are not so rigidly gender specific. For example, women are no longer expected to stay at home. They may be educated, leave home without being married, have careers, and be involved in the decision making process of the country. Some men stay home nurturing the children while women provide for the family.
Despite these outward changes, however, many of the patriarchal attitudes underlying traditional culture remain the same. In a way, it's even harder now because although these attitudes are still ingrained in all of us, we are unaware of their effect. Most of us think our society is no longer based on patriarchy. We do not see how our attitudes and beliefs that affect the way we think, feel, and interact are part of a patriarchal system, and as a result we reinforce it.
40
If you try to speak about these attitudes people will often say, What are you talking about? Sexism doesn't exist here, it's just a construct of the feminists in the West! Women are respected and revered in our culture.
It is partially true that women, in their traditional roles as wives and mothers, have always been respected. However, it is also true that women stepping outside their traditional roles are rarely respected.
The attitude that women and all they represent are less valuable than men and all they represent still remains and underlies every aspect of our being. This is a natural consequence of growing up under patriarchy.
If you do not think so perhaps you can think of the following biases which most of us live and are often in a fight with:
How many of you men put down in yourselves and other men qualities that are traditionally associated with women, like showing emotions, being soft, vulnerable, fearful, hurt, nurturing, caring?
How many of you women have found yourselves struggling with feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness? Have had a hard time believing in yourselves? Have found it difficult to come out of hiding? Bring in your opinions and ideas?
How many of you men have caught yourself thinking you're better than a woman is? How many people do you know who still have this belief?
How many of you have found yourselves in the heat of the moment saying to your female partner, "Don't you raise your voice at me!" or "I have the final word!"
How many of you have gotten furious because you felt you lost face in front of your friends when your female partner disagreed with you in public?
How many of you would still consider being referred to as a woman to be the ultimate insult?
How many humiliating remarks or jokes about women did you hear on the radio today? How many slipped out of your mouth?
How many of us still deem women's lives meaningless and unfulfilled when they are not married and having children?
How many of us still think that the woman must have had it coming when we hear about her having been raped? How many streets do you know that women can walk down safely at night?
41 How many women were raped or beaten today in their homes?
How many men are doing time for having killed to defend their "honor" that was taken away by their wife's, daughter's or sister's sexual behavior?
How many women had to give up the ownership of their ideas today to their male bosses to see them be materialized?
How many women are suffering from not being allowed to stand in their power? How many men are suffering from not being allowed to have or show any feelings?
How many women put their feelings down? How many men put their power down?
Here I notice that I'm speaking about women and men and female-male relationships. This upsets me deeply, for this in itself marginalizes all the other gender experiences and forms of relationships that exist.
Many people in the world do not feel that they belong to either gender, while many others feel they were born in the wrong gender. Many people in same-sex relationships are suffering from being forced to be invisible and from being thought of as unnatural, sinful or perverted. Lesbian, gay, transexual, and transgendered people are still discriminated against daily in most parts of the world and certainly in Greece.
A Finnish organization called "Get To Know The World" recently conducted a research study among adolescent youth in five countries of the European Union. One of them was Greece. One of the questions, which was aimed at investigating the youths’ attitude toward different minority groups asked: "Which of the above mentioned people would you not want as your neighbors under any circumstances?"
The Greek youth came first (37%) in not wanting homosexual people as their neighbors, second (22%) in not wanting people with AIDS, and last in not wanting refugees (8%) and people of color (4%). 10
This study shows how widespread the rigid belief system around gender and sexuality is in Greece. Sexism is intimately connected to homophobia and intolerance of differences. Our rigid ideas around gender, roles, and sexuality leaves no space for the vast range of human experience and creates tremendous suffering... It's time for us all to loosen up!
10 Giannakidis, Babis. “Negativity for those suffering from AIDS and homosexuals.” Eleutherotypia, April 7, 1998, p. 23.
42 The Evolution of Patriarchy in My Family Tree
I'm part of a lineage of women and men who struggled to create a better world according to what they believed was right. Their way, though it seems to have served them well, feels oppressive to me in many ways. It limits women's freedom and ultimately men's too, and confines human experience to what is considered "appropriate", leaving out a vast range of experiences and oppressing anyone who differs.
My great grandfather on my mother's side was born in 1855, just twenty-three years after Greece became an independent nation.
The Orthodox Church had played an important role in sustaining the Greek identity and culture during the 400 years the nation was enslaved by the Turks. It was the only institution to which the Greeks could look for a focus. Through the use of Greek in the liturgy and through its modest educational efforts, the church helped keep a sense of Greek identity alive. The newly founded Greek state was intimately connected with the church, as were all the educational foundations at the time. The education my great grandfather got was embedded in what are known as the "Greek-Christian Ideals".
These ideals were developed and expressed by the ancient Greeks, starting with Heraclitus and Anaxagoras and moving through Aristotle and the other philosophers of the golden age of Pericles and the scholars and intellectuals of the Byzantine Empire. I will not expand on these philosophies or on the history and role of the Greek Orthodox Church here. I just want to point out the intimate connection between Greek culture and the Greek Orthodox Church, since I believe that the patriarchal attitudes in Greece are intimately connected to both.
My great grandfather was considered a great man in his time, someone who devoted all his time and energy to education and religious reform. He created and taught in one of the first "Greek Orthodox" schools in Athens. It was made up of an elementary and high school for boys and a high school for girls, since he believed that women should not be discriminated against in education. It also had a small church in the yard for the students to attend mass.
He fought from within for the reform of the church, trying to support the education of priests and the building of more schools rather than churches. He worked to spread the word of God as seen by the Greek Orthodox Church and deeply believed in the existence of good and evil. He strove to clear his soul from all passions, strengthen his will to repel all evil, and to adopt and adhere to goodness.
43 One can see from his diaries that my great grandfather was clearly the head of his family. Together with his eldest son, he organized and scheduled all aspects of each family member’s life, including what time each woke up, what time and how long each studied, which church they attended, how much money each spent on what, and when and where they went. Although he was radical in his insistence that every member of the family be heard during family meetings, he was traditional in his thinking that the final decision belonged to the men. The men decided, and the women obeyed and followed.
My great grandfather congruently filled the role of the patriarch. His wife, my great grandmother, while a teacher at the girls' high school, lived a life of service to her family and supported him, staying in the background. People used to say about them, "Calliope is holding the rifle while Constantine pulls the trigger." This sums up well the Greek traditional roles of a couple.
My grandmother, brought up in this traditional, strongly religious environment, lived her life following what was expected of her in terms of her roles as a devoted Christian, a daughter, a wife, a mother and later a grandmother. At the same time, she followed what she believed was right.
My grandmother respected and obeyed her father's decision not to allow her to study anything but theology while finding a way to do what she wanted, which was to study philosophy. For five years she went to the University of Athens and participated in all the classes she would have taken had she been studying philosophy without ever officially enrolling as a student. Thus she never went against her father's will, which was very important to her, yet still got the education she yearned for.
After she was married she was financially dependent on my grandfather who each week gave her the money with which she had to make ends meet. She was incredible in managing their budget in such a way that there never seemed to be anything missing although they didn't have much at the time.
I think my grandmother never had money of her own until my grandfather died and she inherited what they had. Her life was dedicated to serving him and her family as best she could. The last three years my grandfather was alive he was senile and bedridden. She took care of him alone in their house until he died and was very proud that during those years he never once got an open sore on his body.
Grandma was free as a woman to focus on herself only after grandpa died. The last seven years of her life she lived doing things she enjoyed doing.
She didn't agree with the way we were being raised, since we weren't religious enough and were often allowed to do things that girls traditionally were not allowed to do in those days, but she never interfered. She believed it was up to
44 our father to decide how he would run his family, so she gave him her opinion without insisting on her way.
My grandmother showed me the world through her eyes but didn't force me to live by it. She seemed disappointed that my sisters and I weren't following the traditional norms, but at the same time supported our autonomy in her own way. She believed women should be independent financially and from the moment she had her own money took much pride in giving us an allowance.
When I moved into my own apartment she gave me all the things she had made and bought for me over the years such as embroidery, sheets, tablecloths, kitchen utensils, appliances, and other household items. "I was going to give you these when you got married," she told me, "but since you're moving into your own home now, no sense in waiting!"
In those days it was still unusual for a woman to leave her parents' house before she was married, so grandma didn't think it was right but she gave me her blessing anyhow.
While I was growing up I always thought I was a disappointment to her, but three days before she died she showed me that she loved me and stood behind me carving out my individual path even if it meant breaking with traditional norms. I am forever grateful to her for this last memory and have fallen back on this support many times since in my life. She has become one of the supportive figures in my dreams.
She died at a turning point in my life. "I've lived my life," she used to say during the last months of her life, "it's time to make space for you, the younger generation." She woke up one morning, had her breakfast, did a few things and then lay down to rest and passed away in her sleep. She left me a roof over my head and some money she had been putting aside for me for many years, which was enough for me to venture forth on this life-changing journey. Thank you grandma.
My grandfather was an engineer in the army; he built bridges for the troops to cross over rivers. He fought in the war against the Turks that ended in 1922. Then he fought again against Mussolini's army in 1940. When the Greek army came down from the mountains after Greece surrendered to Hitler, he went to a friend's house before going to his own to clean himself from the lice and dirt. He didn't want his wife and daughters to see him in the wretched condition he was in.
My grandfather came from a lower class family than my grandmother did. He was a second lieutenant in the military academy in 1923 when he went to her father to ask for her hand, but her father declined for he did not want his daughter to marry a military officer. Grandpa then quit the academy and went to the University to
45 study chemistry, which allowed him to marry the woman he had fallen in love with.
My grandmother and grandfather filled their traditional roles as husband and wife. He was the provider, working to make a living for his family while she took care of their home and children and helped him in his work. They had their disagreements as a couple but fell back upon the safety their roles provided, allowing them to go on without needing to work out all the differences between them on a personal level. They seemed happy living their life that way.
My mother and father started out by stepping into their traditional roles as a couple. Over the years they found themselves having to redefine what it meant to be a man, a woman, a wife, a husband, a mother and a father, as their roles were no longer adequate to deal with the complexities of their relationship.
Their life took them into unmapped territories outside the boundaries of their traditional roles as a couple as well as their professional roles as colleagues. During the time that they were forming their professional identities as a psychiatrist and a psychologist, psychology and psychiatry were fighting about whose representatives should head the scientific team. Psychiatrists thought of themselves as the true scientists who could hold the huge responsibility of diagnosing and healing people and saw psychologists as amateur, non-scientific philosophers. Psychologists saw psychiatrists as trapped in their white robes and themselves as liberals, open to the new theories and ideas. The teamwork my mother and father developed in their work together was radical for their times.
Some of the things I've seen my mother struggle with over the years are believing in herself and her feelings and recognizing and trusting her professional abilities and skills. She struggled to create a space for herself outside her roles as a wife, mother, and professional, to look out for herself and her own needs and to take time to do the things that are important for her.
Some of the things I've seen my father struggle with are letting go of trying to be in control, expressing his deep feelings, accepting being dependent, learning to put his needs on hold, and opening up to different viewpoints and ways of dealing with things.
My mother and father were two very different people with completely different ways of perceiving and approaching things. They struggled to find ways of synthesizing that went way beyond their traditional roles as husband and wife, man and woman. Through their life together they modeled for me letting go of things that don't work and searching for what does.
46 Images of A Culture
47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 Christianity
Built in the cavity of huge rocks, a tiny little church stands watching over the deep blue sea. I enter its damp darkness and light a candle.
A priest comes up behind me and puts it out with a motion of his hand. I'm not doing it right.
I enter the sanctum with the priest following close behind. "What on earth do you think you're doing? Don't you KNOW you're not allowed in here?"
"NO! NO! You don't KNOW… You have NO idea..."
Rage! I'm screaming, he's screaming, we both keep on screaming until finally he stops; he's listening.
"You have no idea what it's like to feel all your life that your presence desecrates. Enough! I will not take this anymore. NO MORE."
Though he will never admit it, I see it in his eyes; something in him is touched. I know he has understood something.
I feel good, strong, alive!
58 rying to write about feeling put down as a woman by the Greek Orthodox T Church is scary. I notice I think twice about every word I write. It feels dangerous…
The other day, I was reading in a Greek newspaper about a teacher who has been indicted and is pending trial for proselytism because she talked to her students about Buddhism. The journalist thought that this was just a pretext and that the real reason she had been accused was that the regional Metropolitan bishop did not agree with her politics in the region.1
In the past, the Greek state and the Greek Orthodox Church were one. When the founding National Assembly of the modern Greek state was constituted in 1822, the only way they had to define who was Greek was religion. Section B of the second paragraph of the constitution of Epidavros read, "However many native inhabitants of the Greek territory believe in Christ are Greeks."2
The powers of the state and the church have been separated in later revisions of the constitution, but their boundaries are often still diffuse. In 1976, for example, a proposed draft of a law that would have abolished the inaccessibility of Mount Athos to women was rejected in the Greek parliament, based on the argument that this would endanger relations between the state and the Patriarchate.3
My fear is that anything I say will be seen as sacrilegious. The teaching of the church, "believe and do not question," keeps echoing in my ears. Yet I feel that some of the attitudes, beliefs and teachings of the Church put me down as a woman and thus I need to speak out about it.
I have not studied Christianity in depth and therefore will not enter into a discussion about the rightness of these beliefs, attitudes and teachings in relation to the doctrine itself. Rather, I will discuss what does not feel right to me, personally, as a woman.
I speak only from the point of view of a woman who feels put down by the Church; I do not feel able in this moment in time to stand and speak for the Church. What follows is therefore a one-sided viewpoint.
1 The indictment read: "In the month of May 1995, at a date that has not been established, she acted to proselytize by abusing the inexperience of others. As a teacher of the German language in a tutorial school, she took advantage of the spiritual immaturity of her students. She tried in an indirect way—that is by making frequent references to Buddhism and the religious ideas of the East—to make the students warm themselves into the religious consciousness of heterodox people, with the purpose of changing its content." (Eleutherotypia. “The Sunday Virus: Metropolitan Bishop Damaskinos: The ‘Local party boss’ Maronias: At all costs to the Stake?" Epsilon, No.358, p. 7, February 15, 1998.) 2 Giannaras Christos, Orthodoxy and West in Modern Greece, 1992, Domos, p. 17. 3 Eleutherotupia. “The Sunday Virus: The Inaccessibility of Mnt. Athos: Ark for one kind: Females, Out of here!" Epsilon, No.292, p. 1, November 10, 1996.
59 It is also one-sided in that it does not talk about the beauty of the spirit of the divine that is woven into everyday life, which is another aspect of the way the Greek Orthodox Church is part of the Greek culture, and one that I love.
Christianity and Women
I find one of the most painful attitudes of the Greek Orthodox Church the view it has towards women and sexuality. This perspective says that women are "impure, profane, carriers of dissoluteness, capable of having a soul-destroying effect on men, of leading them to sin."4
This attitude is apparent in the interpretation of the biblical story of the original sin, Adam and Eve's fall from the heavens, which turns sex into a sin and women into temptresses. But as we read in Judith Antonelli’s article “The Goddess Myth”, which appeared in Ms. Magazine, this is just the most recent interpretation of this biblical story, not necessarily the word of God.
When Christianity appropriated the Hebrew scriptures as its Old Testament, it ignored centuries of rabbinic commentaries that, in Judaism, are considered essential to understanding any biblical verse. It wasn't Jewish tradition that used the story of Adam and Eve to rationalize the subordination of women, or that equated the forbidden fruit with sexuality. Nor did the earliest Jews claim that Adam and Eve, by eating the forbidden fruit, stained all of humanity with original sin.5
Connected to this attitude is a belief that women are a miasma; that their presence contaminates and desecrates because they menstruate. This belief, which underlies the prohibition of women entering the sanctum of the church, did not originate in Christianity; it goes back to the times of ancient religions. Panagis Lekatsas, in The Dictionary of Social Sciences, under the word "untrodden" talks about all the various places women's presence was not allowed during ancient times, such as temples, holy forests, Olympic games (married women were banned from watching them), and so forth. One of the reasons he cites for this is "the development under the pressure of patriarchal ideas of the notion of the miasmic state of women especially from the menstrual blood."6
4 Ibid., p. 2. 5 Antonelli, Judith, "The Goddess Myth." UTNE Reader, November-December 1997, No. 48, p. 63.
6 Eleutherotypia. The Sunday Virus: The Inaccessibility of Mnt Athos: Ark for one kind: Neither woman, nor dog, nor fly." Eleutherotypia, Epsilon, No.292, p. 6, November 10, 1996.
60 One of the most painful consequences of these teachings of the Greek Orthodox Church is that it perpetuates the notion of women's inferiority to men. This notion, of course, did not begin with Christianity either. As we read in Caroline Merchant's, The Death of Nature,
Aristotle associated activity with maleness and passivity with femaleness. Form reigned superior over dead, passive matter... In the generation of offspring, the female contributed the matter or passive principle. This was the material on which the active male principle, the semen, worked in creating the embryo... Socially, Aristotle found the basis for male rule in the analogy that, as the soul ruled the body, so reason and deliberation, characteristic of men, should rule the appetites supposedly predominant in women.7
According to Daly, the Aristotelian idea of fixed natures, as well as its view of women as having only a minor role in procreation, was taken over by the church and "combined with the idea of women's special sinfulness, stemming from commonly held interpretations of the Bible, made it seem that the sociological fact of woman's subordination was inscribed in the heavens."8
Merchant points out that between the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the image of an organic cosmos with a living female earth at its center gave way to a mechanistic world view in which nature was reconstructed as dead and passive, to be dominated and controlled by humans.
Women's dark side was symbolically associated with unruly nature. Although Virgin Mary had been worshipped as mother of the Savior, women were also seen as closer to nature than men, subordinate in the social hierarchy to the men of their class, and imbued with a far greater sexual passion... The blame for the bodily corruption of the male was attributed directly to lust and temptation by the female in the popular Renaissance belief that each completed male sexual act, or "little death," shortened the life by one day... The upheavals of the Reformation and the witch trials of the sixteenth century heightened these perceptions. Like wild chaotic nature, women needed to be subdued and kept in their place.9
7 Merchant, Caroline, The Death of Nature: Women, Ecology and the Scientific Revolution. HarperSanFrancisco, 1980, p. 13. 8 Daly, Mary, The Church and the Second Sex. Beacon Press Boston, 1968, p. 62.
9 Merchant, Caroline, The Death of Nature: Women, Ecology and the Scientific Revolution. HarperSanFrancisco, 1980, pp. 132-133.
61 Why is God male? Why are women excluded from being "God's representative on earth"? Why are they excluded from the hierarchy of the Church?
In The Church and the Second Sex, Daily discusses the major points of criticism of the Church that her analysis of Simone de Beauvoir's work The Second Sex revealed. One of these points reads
The Church, by excluding women from hierarchy, contributes significantly to the process of inculcating inferiority feelings... 'God's representatives on earth' are all men. The effect of this is to imbue the girl with a specific inferiority. It is futile for her to aspire to such an exalted role no matter how great her talents and piety.10
Daily goes on to point out that the exclusion of women from the hierarchy is linked with an idea of divinity as male, which is reinforced by the fact that God is called Father, Christ is male, and that the angels, though pure spirits, have masculine names.
Antonelli says that in the ancient rabbinic teachings the first human was created as a hermaphrodite, a male and female joined in the back. "The 'creation of woman' was, more accurately, the separation of the female from the male by cutting them apart at the 'side' (tzela, a Hebrew word that often gets translated as 'rib')."11
She also notes that many Hebrew words can be either masculine or feminine, since how they are vocalized determines their gender, and men determined vocalization.
The '”linguistic maleness” of God is exaggerated by translation into nongendered languages such as English. It has been solidified into a physical image of maleness by Christian theology, which has God “impregnating” a woman and “fathering” a son.12
Merchant says that some of the early Gnostic Christians who described God as androgynous prayed to both the father and the mother and interpreted the account of the creation in the first chapter of Genesis to mean that a male-female God created men and women in its image. In these interpretations God was a dyad of opposites existing in harmony in one being.
10 Ibid., p. 65. 11 Antonelli, Judith, "The Goddess Myth." UTNE Reader, November-December 1997, No. 48, p. 65. 12 Ibid., p. 104.
62 Evidence for the appeal of gnostic androgyny to women is indicated by their attraction to these heretical groups during the period AD 150-200, when Christianity was struggling to gain its stature as a world religion. Here they could play important roles from which they had been excluded by orthodox churches, including healer, evangelist, priest, prophet, and teacher.13
Karen L. King, Professor of New Testament Studies and the History of Ancient Christianity at Harvard University Divinity School says that in the last twenty years, the history of women in ancient Christianity has been almost completely revised.
As women historians entered the field in record numbers, they brought with them new questions, developed new methods, and sought for evidence of women's presence in neglected texts and exciting new findings. Perhaps the most surprising is that the stories of women we thought we knew well are changing in dramatic ways. Chief among these is Mary Magdalene, a woman infamous in Western Christianity as an adulteress and repentant whore. Discoveries of new texts from the dry sands of Egypt, along with sharpened critical insight, have now proven that this portrait of Mary is entirely inaccurate. She was indeed an influential figure, but as a prominent disciple and leader of one wing of the early Christian movement that promoted women's leadership.14
One of the consequences of this distortion is “the separating of motherhood and sexuality, resulting in a virgin/whore split in our psyches that has caused much distress for many women.”15
Why the distortion? Why was Mary Magdalene turned from a prominent disciple and leader into an adulteress and repentant whore?
In In the Image of God: A Feminist Commentary on the Torah,16 Antonelli shows that what appears to be sexism in the Bible is nothing more than a reflection of its historical context.
13 Daly, Mary, The Church and the Second Sex. Beacon Press Boston, 1968, p17. 14 Frontline, a television investigative magazine on PBS (Public Broadcasting System), which recently aired a four hour program on Christianity titled "From Jesus to Christ: The First Christians" posted much of the same information on the PBS web site
63 She points out that contrary to the "goddess myth"17 the feminist spirituality movement has come to believe in over the last twenty years, the origins of male supremacy and militarism go back to the times of ancient paganism where sexual abuse and exploitation, ritual castration, phallus worship, and even human sacrifice were all integral aspects of religious tradition.
Thus it seems that the Church's attitude and position on women has less to do with religion and more with the patriarchal attitudes of the society it developed in. Christianity did not invent patriarchy; it came to be in a period that was patriarchal. Yet as a patriarchal institution it reflects and perpetuates sexism. As such, it carries a share of responsibility for the continuation of women’s oppression.
My high dream would be of a Church altering its legacy and history by becoming aware of sexism as it manifests in the present in its doctrines, teachings, attitudes, and beliefs.
On a personal note, our experience of the divine takes many different forms. I remember the terror as I was walking up the aisle towards the priest to take part in my first communion and the ecstasy right after I drank that tiny sip of wine as I felt something come through me, radically changing my state!
What we call God, the divine, is a very personal experience. Institutionalized religion is oppressive to the extent it does not embrace the diversity of human experience.
17 Searching for female images of the Divine, women who rejected the sexist teachings of their traditional religious upbringing inevitably turned to ancient pagan goddesses such as Isis of Egypt and Ishtar of Babylon and in the process adopted the romantic notion that the societies that worshipped them held women, sexuality, and nature in high regard, until one day a band of male warriors with a violent male god invaded this utopia, destroying the Goddess and installing their god as the 'one and only' deity. Antonelli calls this the "goddess myth", which has come to be widely accepted as historical fact.
64 Personal History
e are all a product of our times, of the field we live in; history, culture, Wreligion, our personal histories.
Having witnessed the suffering and sacrifices of their own generation and of those that came before them, my parents’ generation was left with the immense task of creating new life from the ashes of the World War I, the 1922 disaster in Asia Minor, World War II and the Greek civil war.
They were ready for a chance to live in peace and work for the dream so many people had given their lives for, the dream of making the world a more humane place for their children to live. A world where there are no more oppressed people, where poor people are treated humanely and have a chance, where injustice doesn’t rule and selfishness and greed don’t win over sharing and community.
My mother and father struggled to deal with all the changes going on around them while following their dreams and trying to be true to their beliefs and values. As I start writing about my personal experiences I find myself worrying that my words may be painful for them, since I know they did not mean for things to have the effect they had on me.
It is important to me to give as multi-dimensional a picture as I can of my parents, who are both loved and respected by the many people for whom they have been teachers, mentors, therapists and friends.
I hope to be able to do this in a way that will respect and honor these people’s feelings, as well as my parents’ lives and struggles.
65 Her Story
he was born in Athens in September of 1927, where she grewS up. Her childhood years were filled with love, kindheartedness, laughter and singing. Her mother loved having an open home; friends would show up unexpectedly and she would whip up a feast in no time despite their limited financial resources. After dinner they all gathered around the piano and sang the night away. Her mother loved playing the piano.
Then the Second World War started and her father left for the front line. She volunteered at the Red Cross, helping with the distribution of wool to women who knit socks and pullovers for the men fighting up in the snowy mountains. One of the stories that I’ve heard my grandmother tell about this period is how she took my mom up to the terrace one night when the German planes were flying over their heads to help her toughen up. She was only a teenager then, but she was the oldest and needed to learn to be strong and courageous to survive. She did. She has always been strong in face of the challenges life put in her path. She taught us all about courage.
During the years Greece was occupied by the Germans she joined the underground movement and together with other youth secretly gathered beans, macaroni and other non-perishable food and sent it to the partisans who were up in the mountains fighting against the German occupation after the Greek army surrendered.
She had just finished high school when the German occupation ended and the civil war started. She became a volunteer nurse for the Red Cross. Together with a few doctors but mostly with other volunteer nurses, all women her age, they kept a hospital that the Red Cross had created at the site of her old high school running. They treated hundreds of young soldiers with frostbite and amputated feet.
When the wars were finally over she went to the University to study chemistry, which was her father’s path, but she soon realized it was not hers. Although she had studied hard, her grades at midterm were very low, contrary to her previous records. Not listening to the encouragement around her to continue, she took this sign seriously and reconsidered what she was doing.
66
She went to her father and asked him if he wanted her to be a chemist and continue his trade - he had a small chemistry lab where he helped tavern owners test the acidity of their wine. In those days people chose the tavern they went to for its house wine rather than for its food. Her father told her he had no such expectations. There was no real future in what he was doing since the wine factories were taking over and he would soon be out of business. “Besides” he told her, “who would trust their livelihood to a woman?”
Free to follow her heart’s desire, she was suddenly left in a void. At a time when all her friends were either studying, pursuing a career, or getting married, she withstood the difficulty of the unknown. She sought her heart’s path, not knowing exactly what she was looking for, except that she wanted to be of service, to fight, to do something useful for her land and her people.
She did whatever came her way and kept looking, getting involved in different things, but nothing really made her heart jump. Eventually she helped a psychologist who had been trained with Piaget in Geneva create a center for children in Athens and began working with her. She was also the editor of a magazine through which she met him a few years later.
His Story
He was born in Parakoila, a small village on the island of Lesvos, in January of 1927. His childhood years were difficult and emotionally strained; his parents had relationship difficulties in which the whole village somehow got involved. When he was four years old his family left the village for Athens, hoping things would be easier there for the couple. That was his first trip across the Aegean Sea. It took them two days to get to Athens on a fishing boat, and that was a fast one! (Today it takes the ferryboat fourteen hours.)
67 October 28, 1940, the day Greece entered the Second World War, found him and his family in Athens. Mussolini’s troops had attacked Greece across the Albanian boarders but soon found themselves retreating suffering major losses. Hitler’s troops came to their rescue on April 6, 1941, attacking Greece all across the Bulgarian borders, and soon the German flag was streaming in the wind on the rock of the Acropolis.
In June of 1941, together with soldiers from their village who had returned from the front line, his mother, brother and himself crossed the Aegean sea to go back to their island. Come fall, his mother decided to take them back to Athens so as not to miss school, so once again they made the long sea journey. When they arrived they were faced with a devastating situation; food was extremely scarce and people were dying from hunger. They had found themselves amidst the big famine that hit Athens at that time.
Thanks to some olive oil they had from the village, they managed to survive through the winter. But they were very frail and barely surviving, so in the summer of 1942 they decided to try to cross the Aegean again to go back to the village where at least they would have the few olives, grains and vegetables that people grew on the land. With hardly any food they sailed for six days before they got there.
While I was growing up, I never saw people of my grandparents’ and parents’ generation ever throw away food. Their descriptions of people going for days without any food, of children dying from hunger with their feet and bellies swollen, still remain vivid in my mind.
In 1945 he came back to Athens to sit for the University entrance exams to study medicine. In the midst of his studies he was drafted by the military, but after basic training he was granted a leave of absence to finish his studies. The day after he received his degree he was positioned to serve as a doctor in the military units in the mountains of Northern Greece close to the Bulgarian border. His jurisdiction included villages spread over a radius of 24 miles. The villages were connected through small mountain paths, many of which were still filled with land mines. These were the same mountains where thousands of soldiers had fought and died just a few years before.
Riding his horse from one unit to another he heard in the wind and the streams the cries of those who had died defending the land. Passing through half-ruined villages, he met people who had survived but were half dead, their spirits broken by the injustice around them and the shattering of their hopes and dreams. When he came down from the mountains, he wrote the stories of these people, and through these stories he met her.
68 In Turmoil
a soul looking for justice human decency dignity
a soul burdened by the blood of hundreds of young people still flowing burning rivers on those mountains screaming pleading
DON’T LET IT ALL BE IN VAIN
RAGE
the dead are asking to be heard they’re looking for the “better days” but these will never come as long as no one is looking inside
a soul in turmoil he was determined to help people look within
How can I express in a few sentences the turmoil he felt in his heart? It was rooted in the history of hundreds of years of suffering and oppression. In people hoping and dreaming and sacrificing their lives for a more humane tomorrow, to be faced now with even more corruption, exploitation, greed, stepping over dead bodies, the strong taking advantage of the weak, betrayal, inhumanity, injustice, ingratitude, indifference, intolerance. His heart was in pain, yearning to find the humanity in people.
While he was serving in the mountains, the first issue of the magazine she was editing fell into his hands. He was impressed by it and curious to meet the editor, whom he imagined to be an elderly woman similar to those who worked in the welfare system at that time.
During one of his leaves he bumped into a friend of his in Athens. The friend gave him a book and asked him if he would take it to this editor since he was leaving town. He was curious to meet her so he did!
69 Meeting
She came in the room a whirlwind sweeping by him! Who is this creature? She was nothing he had ever seen before She had it all the heart, the soul, the mind
Where did he come from? A total stranger yet she knew he was the one to join passions and dreams bodies and souls
Together you ventured into the world going for your dreams You were a twosome you had each other
Life was adventurous death following you closely behind
Relying on your love believing strongly believing in one another and what you were doing you continued your journey living as fully as you knew how learning growing forever changing
His jaw fell open when she finally stepped into her office. She was the “wild goat” who had run past him a few minutes ago, climbing down the stairs in sets of threes while he was walking up!
Their first meeting lasted only a few minutes, but they met again a year later, in February of 1955, when he came to read an article he had written to the publishing committee of another magazine where she also happened to be serving.
70
By that time, everything she had been doing felt miles away from the blurry elusive cloud inside that was her dream. She could see that her eyes had lost their shine. Everyone around her thought that she was an incredible young woman, yet her agony about doing something meaningful with her life was growing ever bigger as she watched time go by.
His writing touched her deeply. The agony of what would become of this tortured land and crushed souls, the passion, the kindheartedness, the values, the dreams. She felt something light up inside; she recognized in him her own agony, her own vision of working for the whole.
Soon after, they started hanging out together and became good friends. His dream of creating a team of people who would work on prevention to help the country rise out of the ashes brought them together. They had found in one another what they had been looking for.
A few months later it seemed like they would have to wait for five years before they could be together again. He had been accepted at the Mercy Hospital Loyola University Clinics to do his internship, which would then allow him to do his five year psychiatric residency at the Illinois State Psychiatric Institute (ISPI). Soon after he arrived in Chicago, he found himself living in a small house, earning a salary that was enough for both of them to live on, so he sent for her. She took the boat across the ocean to join him. She enrolled in Loyola University to do her Master’s and then a Ph.D. in clinical psychology. Finally, there was an opening in their lives taking them in the direction of their dreams.
They got married in a small church and a year later their first child was born. But as the diaphragm came back down and her lungs spread out, tuberculosis that had been lurking since the war made its appearance. She had a “cave” in her lung, which had ruptured. The doctor told them he wanted to operate to remove part of her lung and send her to a sanitarium to recover, for he believed she was too seriously ill for medication to work. He warned them that once she started taking the medication, he would no longer be able to operate on her.
Having seen the effects of this operation on people during his internship rotations, he decided against it and told the doctor he would take her home and take care of her himself. He was sure she would recover with the medication. The doctor disagreed with their decision and relinquished any responsibility, warning them about the life threatening nature of her situation.
Holding on to one another, they sent their newborn girl to her parents in Greece and started on the journey towards healing.
71 She was struck by his love, his courage to take on the responsibility for her life, his self-sacrifice in deciding to take care of her in spite of the risk of getting sick himself. She told herself she would get well and she did. Three months later she was well enough to go back to the University to finish her Master’s. No one knew that she had almost died. When it was winter and the roads were covered in snow, he warmed up the car, wrapped her up in blankets and took her to class. At night, he went and brought her back home.
Come summer, the doctors told them that it was safe to send for their little girl. Fourteen months after she had given birth, she could finally wrap her arms around her baby for the first time. Life was good to them for the next few years as they enjoyed life together and completed their studies.
During their training they met and studied with Virginia Satir, who was doing a weekly two-hour seminar on Family Dynamics at the ISPI. Through her they entered the family therapy movement that was developing in independent centers outside of the Universities during that time.
In the years that followed they met with many of the pioneers in the field of Group and Family Therapy with whom they would continue to learn and exchange and develop ideas for years to come.
In December 1961, the three of them, or rather four, since she was three months pregnant with their second child, took the boat back to Greece. They both had earned their degrees and were ready to set up the center they dreamed of. They spent the next ten years doing research in Greece, for adjusting the methods and principles they had learned in the US to the Greek reality required knowledge of Greek culture. Over the years they devolved their theory and training methods and worked extensively with individuals, groups, families and couples. A group of people who had trained with them joined them in their work and their center expanded.
They created and took part in various forums that brought together pioneers working in the mental health field in the Balkan, Mediterranean, Eastern and Western European countries, the Middle East and the US. They were invited to teach and train professionals around the world and they incorporated and exchanged ideas with many people who had developed their own theories in the field of psychology and psychiatry. They were acknowledged internationally and eventually in Greece as well.
My parents are alive and still active in their profession, helping and training people and sharing the knowledge and experience they’ve gained over the years. Their life has not been easy, devoid of struggles, agonies, or pain, but they’ve managed to remain open through it all, growing and learning, broadening their minds, living through their hearts.
72 Personal Experiences
you made for me a tunnel of love to come through and nourished me with laughter and hugs but you were blind and couldn't see me you were numb and couldn't feel me you couldn’t encourage and support my deeper nature I frightened you you pushed me to become what I was not and blamed me for failing
I was too wild you tried to tame me
I got depressed you blamed me you doomed me to nothingness trying to get me going I needed you to see me and appreciate who I was
It was cold and lonely it was heavy to be the one who needed to be fixed the one who didn’t have it who everyone felt sorry for and just tolerated having around
It was at times unbearable to be me
I tried so hard to change to throw myself away but I never succeeded
73 the injustice got me angry and I pulled myself away but somehow I knew you loved me I knew you cared one might think it strange but I love you more than words can say you learned from us along the way going through a lot of pain if I was to be born again I’d choose no other way we helped each other grow and learn through really rough terrain
I am who I am because of you your heart, your love, your pain
74 Memories
I was walking down a long corridor with my mom at my side. It was parents’ day and my mother had come to school to meet my second grade teacher. I saw him standing, talking to a woman, and started running towards him. I was exhilarated! I loved him so... I was running so fast I couldn’t stop and ended up bumping right into him! “My mom is here!” I said full of excitement. “Can’t you see I’m talking?” he said, giving me a stern look. I was shocked. I felt so utterly humiliated I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. So hurt that I wanted to crawl away and die. I turned against myself. “How could you be so clumsy? So stupid?” No one noticed; my mom was still further away. I went numb, hid my feelings, and pretended nothing happened.
The three young girls across the street had been raped and were being prostituted by their retarded father. My heart was in pain and terror. How could this be happening to them? I liked them, they were my friends, we played together. When my mom and dad found out they told us that the girls were crazy and we were not allowed to talk to them anymore. My sister and I turned against them, started calling them names and throwing rocks at them...
Why do we turn against the victims instead of the perpetrators? How can we be so cruel and inhumane?
I was coming out of the bathroom naked to go to my room and get dressed. My dad was lying in his bed and the door was open. I heard him calling my mom. He was angry. My mom came into the room with her face all serious and strained and scolded me. She told me I was grown up now and had to cover myself up with a towel when I came out of the bathroom. I felt like I had done something terribly wrong. I felt so ashamed and embarrassed...
My body is something to be embarrassed about? Something to hide? Why? Why was I shamed instead of celebrated when I became a woman? What kind of society is this that shames women for their sexuality?
It was Saturday night and all our friends were going to the party. We wanted to go too, but we were not allowed to go to parties. They were bad. The lights get dimmed, slow music starts playing, and the girls dance with the boys rubbing their thighs together. The boys get an erection and have to make love, for their penis will be physically damaged if they don’t!
What happened to women’s sexuality? Don’t women get turned on? Why are the boys the only ones who need to satisfy their sexual urges? Where did this medical theory of physical damage come from? Isn’t it just a theory that supports patriarchy, a theory that supports women’s sexual repression?
75 This theory implies that a woman does not have the freedom to determine how far she wants to go in a sexual encounter for she will be endangering the physical well being of a man. It implies that a woman should stay away from any sexual activity unless she is prepared to go all the way.
This statement comes from the same logic that justifies rape. If a woman is in any way indicating that she is a sexual being, she is “looking for trouble”. If a woman’s sexuality is apparent in the way she dresses, walks, or moves, if her behavior is “improper”, i.e., is out dancing, drinking, or walking alone in the streets late at night, she is provoking men’s attention, and therefore is responsible if she gets raped. “What do you expect? Men are beasts! They cannot control their sexual urges!” Really, this logic is outrageously disgusting!
The same logic lies behind prostitution. Why is a prostitute a dishonorable and indecent woman while her male clients remain honorable and decent men? Why are men measured by standards other than sexuality while women stake their moral value in the realm of sexuality?
We were watching a film from India on TV. The husband had died and they were preparing to burn his body the next day. Someone was trying to convince the wife to run away to save herself. She was going to be thrown in the fire with her dead husband, to be burned alive. I was shocked. I was horrified to find out that this was actually the fate of many women in India. It seemed utterly unjust, criminal, inhumane. I couldn’t understand it.
Who gave them the right to do that? Why are women treated this way? Who decided that a woman’s life is worth living only as long as her husband is alive? Who said that her purpose in life is to serve her husband while he’s alive and to follow him to his death? Why was the woman in the film accepting that as her fate? Why didn’t she run away? I was sad. I was furious. I was afraid. I was perplexed. I was a woman too...
I read in the newspaper about a man who had broken into a woman’s house and raped her. I couldn’t understand the word rape so I read the piece out loud asking what the man had done to the woman. An awkward silence filled the room and my dad then told me that the man had treated the woman harshly. From the atmosphere, I understood that rape was something bad, something people didn’t talk about, that the woman, though a victim, was somehow to blame. It would be years before I would find out the meaning of the word rape.
Why is it so hard to talk about rape? Why are women shamed when they are raped? Why is it always implied that it is their fault?
Sexuality was never spoken about openly in our house but a lot was implied.
76 It was Saturday night. I told them I was going to the movies but I had gone to the party. I felt so guilty for lying and for doing something I had been told not to do. It was hard to breathe. “What if they find out? I wish I was having fun at least!” I felt very awkward while everyone else seemed to be feeling at ease. I didn’t know how to dance to fast music, and nobody was asking me to dance to the slow songs. I was just standing there watching the others dance, feeling jealous, fat, ugly, unattractive, naive. Everyone else was dating, exploring one another’s bodies, and discovering their sexuality. I didn’t know anything about my body, men’s bodies, or making out. It was a mysterious forbidden zone to me.
“What is this funny feeling? It’s so nice! Every time I see or think of him, my heart beats faster, my breath gets shorter, I feel all warm and tingly inside.” I was in love! Ecstasy! I loved that altered state! I fantasized elaborate stories about him and me, which made me so happy! But soon my mother noticed me spacing out and told me I had to stop escaping into my fantasies and learn how to deal with the real world.
Imagining things that made me feel happy made my life more bearable. I continued to daydream for many years to come though from that day on, I was always on guard against getting caught and always had a sense of doing something wrong.
Falling in love with this boy had gotten me in trouble for another reason too. He was my sister’s boyfriend; I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him. I was seen as “over-identified” and needing to separate myself from her.
There was nothing I could do right. I didn’t have the brains, I didn’t have the looks, I couldn’t even fall in love with the right person! The older I got, the more messed up I felt. The more I ate, the fatter I got, the uglier I felt. The more depressed I got, the more I withdrew, the more my parents freaked out and tried to pull me out of it by telling me it was up to me to pull myself together and stop destroying myself. I remember my father shouting at me that if I didn’t change I would be nothing in my life, I would end up being a seamstress like the woman who lived around the corner.
I wanted to change but I couldn’t. I wanted to be happy but I felt so miserable. I felt bad about myself, worthless, unloved. Nobody wanted to be around me; it’s hard to blame them, since I was so heavily depressed. No one was really my friend; they tolerated me tagging along because they were my sisters’ friends. I was the “identified patient”; everyone had an idea about what was wrong with me and how I should change.
We had two more years of high school when my parents decided that our friends from school were no longer the right people for us to hang out with. They had neither psychological awareness, nor any goals in their life. They were just going
77 to finish school, get married and have kids. All of a sudden, I had to start hanging out with someone else’s friends who were supposedly more sophisticated.
It was hard having to give up my friends, having to hang out with people I had no connection to. I also had to change diaries and start a new one in which I was not to write anything about my old friends—talk about splitting off parts! That drove me nuts! I still remember how cold it felt trying to write in that diary, which was like a total stranger, with whom I had to be careful of my every word. The last bit of warmth I had left in life had now disappeared. Tyranny! Even my thoughts were censored! I had to be retrained to think in their goal-oriented way. Oh, how I hated them for that, for having to give up anything that was truly mine.
But by then I was desperate and decided I was going to try my damnedest to follow their way. But I failed in that too! I never really could throw half of myself away. According to their way of thinking, I had to throw away the part of me that was “bad”. The one that was depressed and everything that was in that depression, the one who was into daydreaming, love, and friends. I had to become a linear new self that sets goals in life and tries to achieve them. I couldn’t. That didn’t work for me. My goals came from my heart and not my mind.
Then, one day I snapped. I just had it with everyone thinking they knew more about what was going on inside me than I did! My rage became my power and I said to myself, “Screw them all! They’re crazy! I’m fine! I’m out of here! I’ll prove them wrong! I don’t need anyone, I’ll make it on my own.”
I still find myself trying to prove I’m worthwhile and have to remind me that I can relax, that I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. It’s still hard to feel it’s O.K. to not be able to make it alone, to need love and support from others.
The theory behind my parents reasoning, as I understood it, was that you have to know who you are, where you’re going, and why, meaning you need to find out what your beliefs and values are and what you want to do in life. Knowing this would give you a strong sense of yourself and you wouldn’t be dependent on others for your self-worth. Your self-worth is something that has to come from the inside; you can’t look to others for approval.
You have to love yourself, be able to fulfill your own needs, be an autonomous human being before you are ready to enter a relationship. Then you will be able to create a healthy relationship where you and your partner can be interdependent. If you haven’t established your self-worth you’re dysfunctional, and you will be burdening the relationship by asking of it things it cannot possibly give you, thus ending up being dependent rather than interdependent.
So, if you have low self-esteem you just have to stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop expecting others to approve, accept, and love you, realize your self-worth and start loving yourself. But I just couldn’t do it alone.
78 What helped me get out of the deep waters was a woman whose presence was so healing it’s hard to describe in words. Her name was Virginia Satir— may her spirit be well on the other side. I was blessed to cross paths with her in my life. She was one of my parents’ teachers when they were studying in the United States who fifteen years later came to their and our rescue when as a family we were stuck and desperately in need of help. Love radiated from every pore of her being. She held my hand and I felt engulfed in love. Love was her healing power. I needed that love. It warmed me inside and set the healing process in motion. I started loving myself through her. I couldn’t do it alone. I couldn’t do it when the love coming my way was conditional upon me loving myself.
It’s heavy writing about those times. All of my parents’ actions weren’t intended to harm or destroy. They acted out of love, out of fear and desperation, out of not knowing. They didn’t understand me. They didn’t know how to reach me. They trusted their psychological theories more than they did their hearts.
No one supported them to trust themselves, their human nature. How could they see and trust what was within me when they couldn’t see and trust what was within them? Love was the bottom line. The moment I trusted and followed myself they backed off, and backed me up. They encouraged and supported me to follow my heart when my heart was pointing me in the opposite direction from the one their beliefs and theories did.
Something changed them, perhaps my sisters and I, perhaps our family life that had been impossibly hard and painful for all of us at times. They opened up and learned from us. They trusted us and let go. They loved, respected, and believed in us. I think that’s part of the reason they were pushing me so hard; they believed in me. They just didn’t know how to support my nature.
Tread lightly
We don’t need to be taught just allowed to stay open
Be gentle, don’t trample on our spirits
Help us sense and become the gifts that we are.
They had ideals and went for them. But however “good” or “right” our ideals, they become troublesome the minute they begin to exclude what we perceive as “bad” or “wrong”. They become too narrow. They limit our experience of ourselves and oppress others who have different experiences than we do.
79 We need to be free enough to allow ourselves to experience everything that we are experiencing, to allow our identities to expand further and further. It’s the fluidity we develop in our lifetime, not getting stuck for too long in any one state, which helps us navigate the journey of our life.
My Relationship to My Mother
I can’t remember how I felt when I was an infant, but from my baby pictures I get the sense that I was a happy baby! I don’t have a clear memory of when the coldness started, only a sensation.
Cold it’s freezing cold no warmth coming my way
I don’t understand why doesn’t she love me? what have I done so wrong? why doesn’t she grab me and squeeze me, laugh, cry, be with me?
Why do I have to live in such coldness and isolation? I’m so jealous
I WANT TO BE LOVED
I was afraid of my mother. I remember looking at her at times when I was a kid thinking her face looked so harsh and strict. Looking back now I realize she must have been incredibly strained from all the difficulties they were facing, but I took everything personally then. Even so, I didn’t feel loved by her the way I felt her loving my two sisters.
After I shared some of this writing with her she told me that she felt she had never been able to express her heart to me before, although it was always filled with love and tenderness for me. That interaction changed our relationship.
To go back though, as I got older and was unable to control my fear of her, I started feeling blamed for the strained relationship. She may have not connected emotionally with me when I was younger, but I was the one keeping my distance now not letting go of the past, punishing her for it, over and over.
In the family discussions we had, they made it seem as if everything was in my control and I could just will it to happen, but I couldn’t. My first reaction whenever
80 she tried to come close was to push her away. It was fear and suspicion, anger and revenge. These feelings were never seen as part of the relationship process and space was never made for them. On the contrary, all efforts were geared towards making them go away, as if the “negative” feelings themselves were the problem.
My pushing her away hurt her and made her feel bad about herself, about the kind of mother she had been but no matter how guilty I felt for making her suffer, I couldn’t change my reaction. Feeling angry and staying away was a natural reaction to feeling hurt. I was developing my ability to protect myself but instead of being supported in that I was blamed for it. I couldn’t say yes without first being able to say no.
During my adolescent years I always sided with my father emotionally, thinking she was harsh and strict with him. Thinking about it now I realize she was trying to negotiate some freedom and space in their relationship. I must have made it even harder for her emotionally to stand for herself. I wasn’t much of a support to her as a woman!
I excepted her to be perfect but how could she? It’s only in the past five years that I’ve been able to really come close, understand and feel into how things must have been for her. She was trying to define herself and her roles as a wife, a mother, a colleague, while struggling to believe in herself, facing a lot of what I’m facing in terms of barriers and obstacles that come from our culture, religion, history.
She did the best she knew how. I want to appreciate her for all her efforts and struggles to be there for us all and for herself, for all she has given me, and everyone around her.
My Relationship to My Father
It was different with my father. I had a strong feeling connection with him from the beginning, which I can see in our family pictures. I look very happy crawling around him, snuggling in his arms. We were one. However on another level we locked horns too, early on I think!
I was a wild, independent spirit, different with my internal nature, stubborn, persistent. I believed strongly in my own ideas, didn’t want to go along with what didn’t feel right to me, questioned his authority, got angry at anyone’s attempt to control me. I was a creature living in my fantasy world, refusing to let go of altered states and “unreal” things.
One of the stories my parents used to tell about me, was about them coming home from work one day to find red drawings all over the hallway of our house. My father stood my little sister and me in front of the drawings and asked us,
81 “What are these? How did they get here?” Apparently I replied, “How did what get there? I can’t see anything?” I never admitted there was anything on that wall. I remember believing strongly that as long as I didn’t admit something was there, nothing was there! And if nothing was there, there was nothing to be punished for! I believed something exists only if I said it did. That was my reality, very different from everyone else’s reality!
As I got older, I started being afraid of my father. I remember being punished by having to go down to the basement. It was sheer terror having to go down there! I was so afraid of the dark, of the mice and cockroaches that I couldn’t make myself go down those steps even though I knew I had to. I remember my sister trying to encourage me to go down so things wouldn’t get worse.
His outbursts of anger scarred me. When I was six years old, one year after the military had taken over in Greece, doctors in the United States diagnosed him with a degenerative illness they couldn’t accurately define and gave him five years to live. They put him on medication that made him very agitated and the slightest provocation made him explode. I remember him slamming his hand on the table and shouting; of course we weren’t allowed to shout back! The atmosphere in the house was heavy and tense during that period. We had to be very quiet when they came home from work, and my mother began to handle most of our everyday life.
Thinking of their situation now, I can barely imagine the strain they must have been under. They had three young children and were just starting to build their center and their careers. The country was under a deadly oppressive force— after the dictatorship ended we found out that they had always been careful about what they said in front of us fearing we might repeat it somewhere and get them in trouble, and now death was knocking on their door again.
In a way, I think the threat of my father’s death helped them focus on what they wanted to do and to live in the moment. Eventually, as years went by and he lived past the five-year limit and went off that medication, things calmed down. As his physical condition changed, the house and we changed with him, thus helping to maintain his mobility and all the things we wanted to do.
What helped us as a family to keep our sanity during those difficult years was a strong connection my sisters and I had developed. We turned to one another for support, which relieved some of the pressure on my parents. We loved one another, hung out and played together, and also fought a lot. We had our own fantasy world in which stuffed animals, dolls, and everything else around us were alive and talked through my older sister. An infinite number of stories happened all the time with all these creatures, ranging from everyday life scenes to revolutions that overthrew the king and the queen and restored democracy among all living beings!
82 My sisters were my emotional home; they enveloped me in a cocoon of love. My younger sister was simultaneously my baby, my protector, and myself. I loved her so much… I loved her little baby wrists and got drunk on her smell, and could never get enough of her even when I squeezed her to death! She was so brave! Though scared herself, she always took my hand in scary moments and went in front. As long as she was there, nothing bad could happen to me. She was my best friend in games and mischief. We had fun exploring the world together and were like one. Then adolescence came and a rift appeared between us. She started becoming her own person and needed to take her space and distance, but I couldn’t let her go. I felt pushed aside and pleaded not to be shut out, but the more I pleaded the more suffocated she felt. I started reading her journal, trying to get back inside. She got furious and hated me, pushing me even further away.
During that time I lost my older sister too, when she went away to study in a foreign country. She had saved my life. With her emotional wealth, her unlimited imagination and creativity, she had opened up new worlds for me and gone there with me. She had watered the soil of my inner life and kept it alive and blooming in times of severe drought. Our souls were one. I felt so loved by her and loved her so. I thought the world of her and she was my world.
Losing the two of them, I lost myself. The three of us had been extremely close and it was time for each to find ourselves independent of the others. The years that were to follow would be of the hardest in my life. I was about to go under, only to emerge years later enriched and wiser from the journey I was about to take.
Returning to my relationship with my father, as I grew older and came into adolescence, I started butting heads with him more and more. Only now I was afraid to do it openly and did it mostly underground.
But it wasn’t just fear that stopped me. I wasn’t supposed to butt heads with him; I was supposed to respect and obey him. My mother and father stepped into the traditional roles as parents, as they had been brought up to do, changing them as their life circumstances forced them to. So, in many ways our family life followed the traditional way, especially in the early years. My father was the head of the family. There was space for everyone to be heard and plead their case, but the last word was his. If he said “no” to something, it meant “no”.
Another thing that stopped me was that anger was not welcomed in our family. It was not viewed as an emotion that was all right to have. Perhaps studying in the United States exposed my parents to the Western viewpoint that favored coolness and intellect over strong emotions. They themselves must have suffered internally from this form of racism, since their Greek nature was more closely aligned to a Southern viewpoint where expression of strong emotions is part of everyday life.
83
I think my father fell victim to a way of thinking that says children need to be given everything, not recognizing that they already have what they need inside. He tried to impose his way on me instead of helping me discover my own. I had my own worldview, my own thinking, my own values, my own ideas, and some were different than his. I reacted strongly inside. I got furious with every effort he made to control my life, and as I grew older the fight got bigger.
He didn’t like my anger and tried to make it go away, but the more he tried, the angrier I got! As a teenager, I had a recurring dream in which my teeth were crumbling and falling out, from which I used to wake up in a panic. He used to interpret this dream as meaning that my anger was going away. That made me so furious, I wanted to kill him!
Another area I felt oppressed in by him was around my body and my sexuality. I felt restricted in my appearance—the way I could dress or have my hair, and in my social life—where I could go and with whom I could hang out. I felt shamed around my sexuality and left to my own devices to deal, in secrecy and silence, with all the changes that were happening in my body and my psyche, without being informed and educated about these natural processes.
Yet another way I felt oppressed was by being psychologized. I felt my whole internal life was being analyzed according to some theory and found wrong. Using one’s psychological awareness in personal relationships is an extremely difficult and complicated endeavor. It requires a lot of awareness of oneself while in relationship, as well as awareness of the rank differences; without this, the situation can easily become emotionally abusive to those with lower rank.
Part of my depression was all my anger that was pushed underground along with all my wildness, passion, and sexuality that didn’t have room to live. The fight went underground and I continued to brew until I finally exploded. “You’re wrong! I’m out of here, I’m following my way!” I was 18 years old. They had given me all they could; it was now up to me to do the rest.
It took me another seventeen years to find myself enough to be able to look back and understand what had happened.
I remember a few years ago I had an interaction with my father over the phone where he told me something that made me feel like he was trying to define my experience. After I hung up the phone I was so upset that I sat down and wrote him a letter telling him my view on things. It was the first time I spoke so clearly to him about how I view life.
84 A few weeks later we spoke on the phone again. “This is a freedom I took and one you will take too, of course. We each have our world views.” he said. “When they were saying good-bye the fox said to the Little Prince1, ‘The truth in life you will see from the heart.’ I love you and I know you love me. You must be saying something to me, which I will think about.”
In that moment I felt closer to him than I ever had before. I felt heard and supported to be my own woman.
Epilogue to Personal History
Our parents brought us up radically for their times, breaking a lot of the norms, doing things differently from what their parents’ generation did, resisting the pressure to do otherwise that came from their social circle (parents, relatives, colleagues, peers, and friends) standing by what they believed was right.
Perhaps having three daughters helped them not to get caught up in the cultural beliefs they grew up with around women and men. Somehow they were able to support our independence and following our hearts even when that meant going against cultural norms. This safe haven at home helped lighten the oppression I faced outside. My home and the outside world were two separate realities, and somehow, the reality at home was the dominant one. I endured the oppression at school, at church, on the streets, in the neighborhood, from teachers, priests, strangers, relatives and friends, secretly feeling that all of it did not really apply to me.
I love my parents deeply. I admire, honor and respect them for their personal struggles, their innovative, ever growing and learning spirits. They have been my models for going for my dreams and fighting for what I believe in, regardless of consensus reality and majority rules. I am a continuation of their stories, their lives.
It is in this spirit that I write about the things that have been difficult for me in my life, knowing that many of the situations I describe above were influenced by their own limitations and cultural beliefs. We all grow and learn together. They took the wand from their parents’ hands and I took it from theirs.
Learning the details of their personal journeys created a closeness between us I hadn’t experienced before. I discovered that where I am now is not so unknown or unfamiliar to them, for they too had been searching for their path of heart. We know each other for we are each other.
1 Saint-Exupery, Antoine de. The Little Prince. Harcourt, Brace & World, [1943], 1973.
85 Social Reality
the world through my eyes
fear fear on the streets fear in the wilderness it’s never safe being out there alone you walk around feeling you own the world have the right to be wherever you are anytime day or night
I walk around tiptoeing feeling I shouldn’t be here watching you from a distance listening to your sounds trying to go unnoticed not wanting to be the venue of the proof of your “maleness” you walk around feeling you have the right to whistle at me make remarks about my body grab my tits and ass yell at me to go back to my dishes humiliate and ridicule me in public drive me off the road beat me rape me try to make me do what you want me to do
RAGE
I want to kill you for making me live in such terror
86 I want to live, experience the world around me I want to feel I have the right to be here too
I want to live in a world where you don’t feel you have the god given right to do as you please with me where my purpose in life is not defined relative to you where my sexuality is celebrated not shamed where I’m a sexual being not object
I want to be as big as powerful as wild as passionate as sensual as lustful as intelligent as capable
AS I AM without having to watch out for your ego or fearing I’ll scare you away without having to worry about my personal safety or losing my job
I’m tired of hiding of making myself small of having to go down because you need to feel up
I’m tired of you having to be the center of attention of you thinking you’re better than me
I’m tired of being thought of as unworthy
I’M TIRED OF BEING PUT DOWN
87 RAGE
How can one live with so much fury inside? It’s agonizing to know you’re so angry you can kill to watch yourself become as oppressive as the oppressor you’ve suffered from when you finally explode
IT'S YOU BUT IT'S ME
I am the oppressor and the oppressed
88 Being the Oppressor and the Oppressed
here are my words coming from? I have to examine my motives, notice Wthe moments of self-righteousness, the moments of revenge. Identify them as such. When I make you the villain it is my one-sidedness speaking. I project all the evil onto you, see you as the source of my suffering and unconsciously strike back in revenge while trying to make you see the light. If only you changed, life would be so good! I am so identified with my pain it’s hard for me to notice that, in that moment, I have become the villain.
It’s taken me many years and many group processes around women-men issues to see this. At first when a group got into these issues I would end up folded in two crying my eyes out. My pain surprised me. I wasn’t aware I was in so much pain.
Having been born into an oppressive system, I didn’t recognize that I was being oppressed; that was life. Once I got out of the system, I started seeing and feeling what I couldn’t while I was in it.
After a while, little snippets of the rage that was beneath the pain started to show themselves in my body signals while I was crying; hands closed in fists, jaws tightly locked, stomach in a knot. It wasn't until years later that I was able to go deeper into these signals and discover the rage. For the longest time I only identified with being hurt and my anger stayed hidden in my body signals or slipped out of me in hurtful ways in my relationships.
Whenever I felt put down by someone, especially a man, I would unconsciously lash out at him, striking back in revenge while protesting for being put down, without being able to recognize the hurt I caused. I couldn’t go beyond feeling hurt. I couldn't identify with feeling angry, hateful, vengeful. I was the victim, at last, rightfully standing up against being oppressed; men were the perpetrators. I was right, they were wrong. I was good; they were evil. I was conscious; they were unconscious.
A turning point for me was a big fight I had with a man I had come to love a lot over the years. He cut off our relationship, refusing to be hurt by me any more. He also refused to work on this with me, thus forcing me to look at myself and work on it internally. I felt deeply hurt and rejected, and was furious at him for the way he unilaterally ended our relationship.
Five months later, while I was trying to work on that relationship scene one more time, I came across a cruel and violent part inside that wanted to annihilate me for having messed up the relationship. This creature had no love for me.
89 Suddenly I realized that this must have been what my friend had come up against in me, what he had been hurt by. It was only after the person I was working with helped me transform this critical figure into a more loving teacher that I was able to listen to it tell me about the need to identify with my anger and express it directly so that it doesn’t hurt people.
I realized I was in the midst of a war with an attitude that was putting me down inside and outside and needed to be wide awake around it. Inwardly I needed to notice each time I put myself down and react, to use the force and the energy that was in my rage to stop the abuse that was happening constantly inside my head. Outwardly I needed to notice when I was being put down and allow myself to express my rage even if it meant becoming totally one-sided.
There was no way around the rage, only through it. I needed to allow myself to feel all the anger and hatred I felt inside, which was very hard to do; there were so many reasons not to. Never in my life had my anger been supported or validated. It seemed so totally destructive and unproductive, like it only furthered "war". In addition, as a woman I had been trained to take it, to give in, to yield, to take care of the other person’s needs before taking care of my own.
I still find myself struggling with this. My first impulse is to focus on the well being of the other person. I’m not as aware of my own feelings. I don’t value them as much and don’t support their expression; thus many times I end up putting the blame on myself while I’m trying to tell the other one where I felt put down by them.
To go back to my relationship with my friend, I expected myself to be able to see the man’s side too, to understand and feel into it. I wanted to go beyond the conflict. Trying to take the other person’s side before taking my own didn’t work because I had all this anger inside that needed to be expressed and listened to. It was stopping me from really feeling into the other side.
I felt the hurt and cried but I couldn’t feel the anger and scream. With support from the people around me I started going into my body signals—the fists, jaw and stomach I mentioned above—and surprised myself again. I had no idea I was raging so much inside. The intensity of it scared me, though at the same time it was incredibly relieving to feel and express it, to have it be heard instead of silenced, justified instead of pathologized.
Exploding in rage in the midst of a group of people, some of whom were willing to listen, be affected, and respond, acknowledging my pain and rage as well as their responsibility, had an incredibly healing effect on me. It catalyzed something inside, validated my experience and gave my dignity back.
90 Thus over time, through a combination of group, relationship and inner work, I started burning my wood1, i.e., expressing all the agony, sadness, pain, rage I had inside, letting the fire of my own desire for revenge start burning itself down.
I don’t know if there will ever come a day when I will no longer get enraged when faced with women’s oppression, but I am grateful to the process work community for providing the tools and the vessel within which such a healing could begin to take place.
As this process continued, I started noticing and enjoying the power and strength I felt during my explosions of rage and self-righteousness. Eventually, I noticed how hurtful I was when I lashed out vengefully while exploding. So it was that I came to see clearly how I am both the victim and the perpetrator.
Knowing that certain things make me so angry I could kill is very useful. The more that I know about this part of myself, the more I can warn people about it when they start pushing my buttons!
Getting hurt and striking back is a ceaseless cycle, which makes relationships hellish unless somebody notices. When I unconsciously deliver a blow to someone while trying to tell them they hurt me, they may feel bad for having hurt me but they will also feel hurt by me. This will make it hard for them to see themselves as the perpetrator, for they too will feel like a victim. If I am able, however, to recognize the moment of revenge, identifying momentarily with the perpetrator, the other one’s experience as a victim is validated and they can more easily acknowledge having hurt me as well. Such an interaction can break the cycling, increase intimacy, and deepen the relationship.
Though I cannot describe them in detail, I want to acknowledge the tools Process Work has given me, which were mentioned above. These tools are a combination of inner work, relationship work and group work skills, as well as a set of metaskills, or feeling attitudes, with which these skills are used. I talk about these tools experientially throughout this thesis wherever I describe inner, relationship, and group processes.2
1 Having “wood to burn” is a metaphor used by Arny Mindell to talk about the overload of potential fuel for anger that exists in those of us who have been publicly abused. Until we have “burned our wood”, our ability to resolve issues is limited for we cannot truly begin to be open to others. Burning our wood involves going into the strong emotions and reactions we have about having been publicly abused. In Sitting in the Fire Mindell talks about public abuse and gives a detailed inner work exercise that utilizes this fuel’s potential to transform anger and release emotions. (See Sitting in the Fire, pp.119-129.) Mindell started using this expression after hearing it from an Israeli woman after a town meeting in Tel Aviv (See Sitting In the Fire, p.125 for the story).
2 See bibliography for resources and books on Process Work.
91
hopeless
I’m sunk again how can I ever describe all the different ways subtle and not so subtle external and internal I feel put down? and even if I do what difference does it make?
Stop trying it’s useless it’s too big it will never change
Don’t bore me with your personal suffering I don’t want to know
So? You had a hard time, what’s new? You think you’re the only one?
You didn’t have it so hard so stop whining girl and be thankful you’ve got the freedom you have
How dare you be so personal expose us in this way? Where is your respect your common sense? Have you no dignity left?
Hush now step back don’t show yourself this way
Who said you can be free to be all that you are?
Inner Effects of Sexism
92 There are moments when all this seems so eternal, so huge, so unchangeable, and then desperation and hopelessness sink in. Dealing with this feels at times too big for any one person alone...
Sexism has affected the way I think and feel about myself, the way I relate to myself and others.
Not believing in myself, in my intellectual abilities, my insights, my feelings, my thoughts; feeling worthless; seeing everyone else as more able than me; being overly self-critical; hating my body; feeling undesirable and messed up around my sexuality are some of the effects sexism has had on the way I have felt about myself.
Raping my feelings with my rationality by thinking I’m sick for wanting to follow the deep feelings I have for people; killing my dreaming by stopping my impulses, my yearnings, my wishes deeming them wrong, naive, and stupid; diagnosing myself as sick for being so angry and depressed are some of the effects it has had on the way I relate to myself.
Focusing on the other person’s needs while ignoring my own; staying in the background, making myself smaller so that the other one is not threatened; taking the blame when the other one has hurt me; thinking I have to be strong and independent, not allowing myself to be needy and reach out or to love as deeply as I do are some of the effects sexism has had on the way I relate to others.
Sexism in the Outer Realm
Patriarchal attitudes permeate the air we breathe in Greece. Of course, Greece is not the only place patriarchy exists; it is alive and well in every culture I’ve come across. As Allan Johnson says, “the vast majority of people around the world were born into patriarchy and have grown up knowing little else.”3
In the outer realm I have felt put down as a woman in my interactions with the world around me, in the institutions I was educated in, in my professional life, and in my personal relationships with men.
Social Surroundings
3 Johnson, Allan. “Can Men Take Responsibility For Patriarchy?” Ms., Vol. VIII, No.3, November/December 1997, pp. 60-63.
93 Fourteen years old, in a movie theater watching a movie: In the middle of the show a man comes and sits next to me. Suddenly I feel his hand on my leg. I freeze. I’m shocked and too embarrassed to tell him to take his hands off of me or to tell my friends what’s happening. I just sit there through the whole movie with my hand on my thigh, trying to stop his hand from going further up, feeling scared and ashamed.
Thirty-four years old, in a movie theater watching a movie: In the middle of the show a man comes and sits next to me. The stench of alcohol hits my nostrils. He starts jerking off. I freeze. I can’t believe this is happening. I put my hand next to my thigh making sure he doesn’t touch me, and watch the rest of the movie on guard, ready to react if he makes a move. At the end of the movie he gets up and leaves before the lights come on.
It makes me so angry that such scenes make me feel embarrassed and ashamed as if what’s going on is my fault. That I’m so conditioned to silence. Why is it so hard to make such a scene public, let everyone around me know what’s going on? Why didn’t I feel I have the right to tell him to get away from me, change seats? Why did I freeze, hold still, shrinking in my seat, instead of getting angry and letting him have it?
When I was growing up our whole neighborhood was under construction. New houses were being built everywhere. I dreaded having to walk to school, the grocery store, the bakery, or anywhere. There was nowhere you could go in those days without passing a construction site. I felt so humiliated and embarrassed by the workers, who undressed me with their eyes, whistled at me, commented on my breasts and butt, called me names and made fun of me for being chubby. I hated going outside.
I was walking the other day in my neighborhood and came upon a big construction site. I felt my body tense up and noticed I was holding my breath. I got self-conscious and started thinking about what I was wearing and how I looked. My first reaction was to turn back and go around the block so that I wouldn’t have to walk past the workers. Suddenly I realized that I was in the United States, and not everybody looks at you that way here. I walked past the site, looking up towards the workers. No one stopped his or her work to look at me; no one was paying attention. It was such a relief. I was wondering if I would be able to react if anyone made a comment about my body. I think it would still be difficult to say something back.
It was past midnight. Our older sister, who was living alone, called us on the phone. She was scared. There was a drunk man outside the door of her apartment, trying to break in, saying all kinds of things about how he was going to rape her. My younger sister and I went to the police station in her neighborhood to report this and ask for a policeman to come with us to her house. “Why did she leave her father’s house before she got married? Why is
94 she living alone?” asked the police officer and went on to inform us that he didn’t have any officers to spare, sending us on our way. We went to our sister’s house alone, scared but furious. We couldn’t believe what that police officer had just told us! By the time we got there the man had left.
This attitude of the police, which reflects the attitude of mainstream society, is so infuriating, it makes me want to throw a bomb! This attitude says that women who step outside the role that has been defined for them by society as wives and mothers will not be respected or protected. To the contrary, they will be seen as promiscuous and as deserving what they get. This attitude maintains men’s power over women by giving them the freedom and almost the “right” to sexually assault women who are “promiscuous”, and by warning women of the consequences they will face if they try to step outside the confinement of their pre-defined roles. It’s enraging…
Education
School was a totally patriarchal system. Most of the teachers I had in high school, both male and female, had a sexist attitude. By this I mean that they treated boys as if they were smarter and more able. Boys got more respect, more lenience towards their mischief and disobedience, and less public humiliation and control.
Some of the male teachers I had were misogynous sadistic creatures, who enjoyed terrorizing, publicly humiliating and putting down their female students. Any mistake we made was greeted with scorn, insult, and sarcasm, and turned into proof of our incompetence and inadequacy, a chance to remind us all that women belong in the house washing the dishes.
During the first years I was in high school, the boys got to go out for a gym class while we had to stay in and take lessons on knitting, sewing, and managing a household. Later on, the girls got to go to gym classes too, but we were still seen and treated as less capable than the boys in that area. No one even thought of questioning the priority that the boys had over the use of the basketball and volleyball courts. When we got a chance to play, it was under the mocking comments of the boys around us.
Girls were discouraged from following the track that focused on math, physics, and chemistry and were geared towards the one that focused on ancient Greek, history, and literature.
Girls appearance and behavior was more tightly controlled than that of the boys. For example, boys were rarely expelled from school because of what they were wearing or how they talked back to a teacher, while girls were expelled for those reasons all the time.
95 Though ours was a pilot school for both girls and boys, which was rare in those days, it was traditional in the way it was run and the morals and values it upheld.
Professional Life
Sexism was present in my professional life as well. At the places where I worked for male bosses my experiences were difficult.
I constantly felt I had to walk a fine line between bringing in my initiative, my creativity, and my ideas and being too bright, too capable, or too independent, which threatened them and brought an onslaught of new regulations that increased their authority and limited mine.
It was always made very clear who had the upper hand. New ideas had to be presented in such a way that could be adopted by the male bosses and presented as their own if they were to be implemented. Any mistakes a woman made were followed by public humiliation and undermining of her authority. Sexist remarks were an everyday occurrence, without any awareness on the part of the ones who made them, as were sexual connotations and passes that women had to deal with in ways that wouldn’t hurt the man’s ego.
It was hard to balance between my own pride and not wanting to go down and turning them against me. It was difficult and infuriating having to hold back, yield, go down and take it, all the time.
96 Personal Relationships
no turning back
warm deep green eyes smiling shining drawing me in closer and closer tender ways seducing in love inexperienced insecure in agony fearful of the unknown yearning for tenderness and love warmhearted affectionate touch
Met with arrogance and distance indifference domineering, mean-spirited demands to deliver the goods humiliating downing remarks hurt bewildered terrified furious what happened? what changed? where is the one I fell in love with? why are you treating me this way?
97
10 years later I understood It isn’t me it isn’t you it’s this macho attitude that gets in the way distances us from our hearts tramples on our feelings ruining our chance for intimacy and love it’s what you and I have become growing up breathing in the attitudes lurking around us forming the way we relate to ourselves to one another abuse cycles
I hate you for not treading lightly for putting me down for raping my heart my spirit my body
It pisses me off that 10 years later my vision blurs my jaws clench remembering but most of all I get hopeless you will ever see
There is no way I will tolerate that ever again
I know now I do not deserve to be treated that way
There is no turning back
98
It’s been days since I last wrote... Why is this such a difficult piece to write? I start writing and I feel the pain and the rage bubbling up inside. I’d rather not remember. So much humiliation...
Realizing after years that it wasn’t me who was screwed up but the world around me was a big enlightenment; a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. And yet it’s still hard not to feel bad about myself when I remember the relationships I had with the men in my life. It's hard remembering the humiliation, and there is still so much internal blame attached.
Why didn’t I believe in my gut reaction of repulsion and fury? If I wasn’t so insecure and in such a complex around my sexuality, if I didn’t have such a big need to be loved, hope to be “cured”, wouldn’t I have walked away? I closed my eyes, fell for the courting and flirting that happened whenever I made a move to go; it felt so good to my wrecked self-image, it kindled my hopes and yearnings for intimacy and love.
I stayed. I desperately needed a relationship. I could finally prove to everyone, but mostly to myself that I wasn’t screwed up, that I was lovable, worthwhile. So much was at stake that I preferred to stay taking the crumbs wrapped up in all the ill treatment than having to face another proof of my “defective” nature.
The story I’m about to tell had a good beginning. There was a mutual attraction between me and this man with the warm smile and tender ways. But as soon as we were on the boat heading for an island vacation, his whole attitude towards me suddenly changed. All the warmth and the flirting disappeared; there was neither tenderness nor love. He became arrogant, cold, distant, almost indifferent towards me. I couldn’t understand what was going on...
Looking back now, I think he was on an ego trip. It was a power game. Once I was on the boat he “had” me; he could return to being “macho”.
He had wanted to make love from the first night we met, but I was scared and felt him to be a stranger. I needed a more intimate atmosphere between us. Once we got to the island he continued to be distant and cold during the day, getting drunk at night and then wanting to make love. I was hurt and bewildered by the change in his attitude and didn’t feel very loving towards him, not to mention being freaked out about making love for the first time. When he was drunk he terrified me even more, so I stopped sleeping next to him. Things escalated between us. The more I refused, the more pissed and mean-spirited he got. He was behaving as if I was denying him what was rightfully his!
99 To make things worse, I had left my motorcycle behind and was traveling on the back seat of his. A few years back, I had had a nearly fatal accident while riding on the back of someone else’s bike, and since then it had been very hard for me to ride unless I was driving. The fact that I didn’t trust his driving skills pissed him off and made him drive even more wildly, which put me in a state of terror. I pleaded with him to drive slower but to no avail. He finally had me; he wasn’t going to let me go. He enjoyed overpowering me...
In my terror I often put my foot down while he was taking a turn at high speed, leaning the bike all the way to the ground. As a driver I knew this was the worst thing a passenger could do, since it made it extremely difficult for the driver to maintain balance. But I was so freaked out that I no longer had control over my body reflexes. This of course made him even more furious, which resulted in even more dangerous driving. We were locked in a deadly cycle. It was a really terrifying experience. Some spirit must have been looking out for us, since in spite of everything we never fell. He must have been a good driver too!
I don’t remember ever feeling so angry in my life. I was furious at him and hated him for putting me in such terror. Finally I exploded. We both said we had had enough and decided we would stop trying to be a couple and see if we could tolerate one another for the remaining days. Once we said that, the atmosphere between us changed. The tension was relieved; we both softened and after a while started flirting again.
One night, after having spent a good day together, we decided to join our sleeping bags. He climbed on top of me and started trying to come inside. I got scared and froze. He told me to relax, open my legs and help guide his penis inside me. Thinking to myself, “Come on, are you going to stay a virgin all your life?” I ran over my feelings and tried to follow his suggestions.
There was no tenderness or love, just forced entry and thrusting movements. There was no pleasure, just fear and pain. After he came he got off me and I lay there wondering, “Is that it? I didn’t feel anything, there must be something wrong with me...”
After that night his demeanor went back to being distant, arrogant, and belittling; a week later we parted for good.
It’s hard to say who’s to blame. The combination of the two of us during that period of our lives made an explosive mix. The strangest thing for me was how close and intimate we became at moments while we were in the midst of this impossible human mess. A little awareness of the roles we were in and the cycling that was happening would have taken us a long way. I still have tender feelings for him, though I also still get angry when I remember his attitude towards me, which mirrored in many ways my own attitude towards myself.
100
Sexism’s Effect on Relationships
There are so many interconnected elements at play here it’s hard to separate them. My personal history, my relationship to my body, my sexuality, and myself definitely played a role in this relationship scene.
I talk about these elements in other parts of this work. Here I want to talk about the superior “macho” attitude that so many men have towards women—and often women towards themselves and other women—that’s so humiliating and enraging.
We hear this attitude in how men often talk about women and women often talk about other women. We hear it on the radio, see it in the movies, on television, in the magazines, in people’s interactions on the streets, in churches, in schools, the courts, in parliament, in prisons, in hospitals. It’s everywhere. We breathe it all day long.
It’s a scornful attitude summarized by the phrase “Women... what do you expect?”
An arrogance, an attitude that says, “I’m better than you, in everything, genetically!” “I know it all. There’s nothing you can teach me.” “You have no brains, no one is interested in your opinion.” “I am entitled to the best, you should be grateful for what you get.”
An indifference and putting down of feelings, a humiliating attitude that says, “You don’t mean anything to me, you’re just another lay, a sexual object. I’ll use you to fulfill my momentary needs—a good ejaculation, a hot shower and a warm plate of food—and move on. I’m not interested in your feelings. Get a life!”
A domineering attitude that says, “You’ll do what I want, when I want, how I want it. You’re here to serve me and fulfill my needs.”
We see this attitude in endless judgments of women who step outside their traditional roles: “She’s selfish”, “She’s a slut”, accompanied by belittling remarks like “What do you think you’re doing? Go back to your dishes.” Or downing remarks when women speak their minds, like “The cucumbers rose to strike the greengrocer.”
These attitudes, expressed here in the extreme, are belittling and humiliating, and are usually met with unconscious acts of revenge. We need to start noticing and talking about them, for left to its own, this cycle ruins our chance for intimacy, and ultimately, any kind of sustainable relationship.
101
Warm brown eyes, full-bodied, palms rough and stained. He walks slowly towards her, bends over, takes her lips into his and kisses her intimately but swiftly, a kiss full of promises. He’s on his way out, leaving her there, bathing in the glow of the fire. He wants her to stay; she wants to stay, but something else is telling her to get out of there fast. He’s so full of attitudes that put women down and yet she’s in love...
Relationship is an area of my life I have often felt hopeless about. Experience has shown me that I need to watch where I’m going and all too often it felt like there was nowhere to go...
In an environment where there is little awareness of these attitudes, I can either keep silent so as not to disturb the “friendly” atmosphere, or try to bring in my awareness and deal with the reactions and tension this brings to the relationship and the atmosphere around us.
The former is extremely painful and hard on my body, for it makes me rage and suffocate inside. I can no longer tolerate it for long periods of time. The latter terrifies me, it feels like a deathwalk.4 Yet, I think my hopelessness has a lot to do with me stopping myself from speaking out about the things that hurt me. We often despair and get hopeless when we stop ourselves from doing what we need to do5.
One way sexism affects relationships is that we get locked into these cycles of getting hurt and seeking revenge without any awareness about it or without bringing this awareness into the relationship.
4 Arnold Mindell, in The Shaman’s Body, recounts a tale that Don Genaro, a Yaqui Indian shaman, told Carlos Castaneda, an anthropologist. “There was a band of male warriors who lived in the mountains many years ago. When one member of the band disobeyed the group rules, he had to face the others and explain himself to them. They found him either innocent or guilty; if they found him guilty, they lined up to shoot him while he walked in front of them… If he walked in such a way that no one could pull the trigger, or if he survived his wounds, he was free… In fact some people did manage to live through that deathwalk. Perhaps their personal power touched their comrades, making it impossible for the others to shoot. Or perhaps the condemned warrior was so centered and calm that his detachment saved him.... According to the shamans, this story means that if you choose to return to everyday life after your training, you must wait on this earth until your task is done. Your waiting will be like that walk of the warriors in the story: Every step could be your last.” (HarperCollins, 1993, p. 199.)
5 Personal notes from Arny Mindell’s class on Worldwork at the Process Work Center, in Portland, Oregon, Spring 1998.
102 Another way sexism impacts relating is that we often favor a style of communicating that is linear and supports logic and clarity over a style that is non-linear and supports the expression of emotions. We often think of being emotional as inferior to being able to argue our point rationally.
Yet another way sexism affects relationships is that we often slip into the traditional female/male roles and have expectations that are based on the stereotypes we have and the assumptions we make about one another without being aware of them.
I want to note here that homosexual, transgender and transsexual people often report experiencing a freedom to negotiate everything anew in their relationships.
Here is an example of the way stereotypes and sexism impact relationships. A young heterosexual couple who lived an alternative lifestyle in a community where a lot of the people followed traditional roles and values went out one evening to have a beer with some friends. During the discussion they were having the woman openly disagreed with her partner on the best way of action on something they were planning. When they got home they got into a huge fight. He was furious at her. He felt betrayed, humiliated and put down. His experience was that she had pulled the rug from beneath his feet. She felt hopeless that there would ever be space for her in the relationship. The atmosphere between them became so thick you could cut it with a knife. They fell into a cold silence that weighed them both down for three days.
One of the traditional norms of the culture the man had grown up in said that it is a grave insult for a man if his female partner disagrees with him in public. The man is disgraced and humiliated in such an occasion, for it shows that he is not the head of his family.
This couple thought of itself as modern, working on building a new kind of relationship, yet here they were once again coming up against traditional beliefs and value systems that were deeply ingrained and unconsciously governed their reactions.
We often experience such difficulties as personal and don’t recognize their connection to the social reality around us. The recognition that we are dealing with something much larger than us personally can give us some detachment and lighten the atmosphere, making it a bit easier to weather these relationship storms.
103 Sexism’s Effect on Men
Allan G Johnson, in his article, “Can Men Take Responsibility For Patriarchy?” that appeared in Ms. 6 wrote that:
Many men feel threatened by the idea of taking responsibility for patriarchy not only because they would have to give up a great deal of what they’ve been taught to value, but also because they would have to confront what they have given up already in order to participate in an oppressive system. There is among men in modern industrial patriarchies an enormous pool of loss, pain, and grief, some of which is tied to the lost relationship between younger and older men. But this reflects a much deeper loss traceable to the portion of men’s humanity that they gave up as part of their solidarity to other men and the patriarchal society whose interests they both identify with.
Inwardly, men suffer from sexism as women do. This idea was a revelation to me and one I only recently was able to open up to and understand. A community group process where space was made for men to come into the center of the large group to focus on themselves was very enlightening in this respect. Seeing the interaction between the men I realized that the same system that makes women feel inferior to men makes men feel inferior to one another.
Men oftentimes judge themselves and one another using the same attitudes they judge women with. They put down in themselves and each other the qualities they put down in women, such as being emotional, needy, soft, gentle, nourishing, weak, showing fear, not being strong enough, smart enough, or successful enough. Most men have not been supported to look within. In their interactions with one another they are often closed to seeing what they are doing that hurts the other person, instead blaming the one who feels hurt.
For example, in this group process, a man said that he didn’t trust the group of men that had gathered in the middle of the large group enough to join them, and then shared how he had been hurt by his father. In response, a friend of his got furious at him for deeming every man not trustworthy just because his father had hurt him. A third man got up and spoke to the friend, showing him how he had been “the father” in the moment in the way he had responded to the first man who spoke. “Look at how we are relating to one another. Instead of looking inside and asking yourself if there is something about the way you treat him that makes this man not trust you, you get angry at him and tell him the problem is his because he cannot trust.” This understanding changed the feeling atmosphere in
6 Johnson, Allan. “Can Men Take Responsibility For Patriarchy?” Ms., Vol. VIII, No.3, November/December 1997, pp. 60-63.
104 the room and brought a momentary resolution to the conflict between the two men.
Men suffer from being stereotyped as much as women do, and perhaps even more, for there is much less tolerance for men crossing the line of gender defined behaviors than there is for women.7
How We Perpetuate Sexism
Patriarchal attitudes are ingrained in us all, men and women alike, though we are hardly aware of them. We all perpetuate sexism by relating to one another and ourselves according to its values.
I have talked about how men often judge and put women, themselves, and one another down, and elsewhere I talk about women’s constant struggle with internalized sexism. Here I want to talk a little bit about the relationship we women have amongst ourselves.
It is painful to see how often, instead of supporting one another we attack each other for venturing out of our traditional roles. For example, a woman who is showing more initiative and is more active than her male partner in a joint endeavor is often attacked by other women for not yielding enough to him, overpowering him, dominating him. Similarly, a woman who more freely shows her sexuality will often be characterized as a “slut”.
We judge other women and, for a moment, we feel better about ourselves because we have risen “above” them, but in the next moment we sink again, for we have used against them the same judgments we use against ourselves, the same judgements that limit our freedom and suffocate us.
Instead of helping one another recognize and bring forth the treasures lying within, we turn on one another using the same system that puts us down without having any awareness that in that moment we have become our own oppressors.
And yet, the fact that we women often find ourselves in competition, discord, and rivalry when we are amongst ourselves is in itself a consequence of sexism. When we are amongst ourselves we are at last in a more even playing field where we can exert these sides of ourselves without fearing negative consequences. We provide for one another the only playground available to discover and develop our wholeness. Many of us would lose our jobs, our relationships, or even our lives if we publicly displayed the kind of assertiveness, power, ambition, and leadership we are capable of and do display when we are among women.
7 Burke, Phyllis. Gender Shock: Exploding the Myths of Male & Female. Anchor Books, 1996.
105
Another way we women perpetuate sexism is by only noticing, recognizing and appreciating the contributions and leadership of the men around us, thus reinforcing the invisibility of women.
On the level of personal awareness I am equating women’s and men’s responsibility and hold each of us responsible for perpetuating the patriarchal system within us and amongst us.
On the systemic level, men belong to the social category that dominates patriarchal systems. They have power over women and privileges; they profit from women’s oppression. As Allan Johnson8 says, “Though this is not a basis for feeling guilty or being blamed, it is a reason to feel responsible for making informed choices about how one participates in the patriarchy and its consequences.”
Another way we all perpetuate patriarchy is through having the attitude that there is only one way that is the right way, which is our way! This attitude doesn’t allow for diverse views, opinions and experiences. It oppresses.
Yet another way we all perpetuate sexism is by expecting one another to fill the stereotypical roles and behaviors that are assigned to our gender.
Women often expect men to be strong, to be tough, to be able to take it, to provide, protect, remain calm and know what to do in moments of danger, to be rational, to not show any signs of weakness in public, to be ambitious, to make it in the world, to lead the way, to initiate the relationship, to do the heavy manual labor, and to know how to build and repair things.
Men often expect women to take care of the household, take care of and raise the children, care for the emotional atmosphere in the relationship, take care of their needs, yield and give in, be patient and understanding, be gentle and soft, be willing to serve, put their needs, ambitions and dreams aside, follow their lead, and support men in what they want to do.
“Benefits” Of Stereotypes
Perhaps I should also say a few words about how women and men “benefit”—if one can use such a term—from the stereotyped roles ascribed to their gender.
8 Johnson, Allan. “Can Men Take Responsibility For Patriarchy?” Ms., Vol. VIII, No.3, November/December 1997, pp. 60-63.
106 Women have been freer to cultivate the intuitive, feeling, sensing sides of themselves, to explore their emotions and creativity, and to identify with their tender sides.
Men have been freer to cultivate their thinking and analyzing abilities, identify with their physical strength and power, develop their skills to deal with the physical world around them, and have been supported to get into the world and act.
In some cases women have more freedom, as they are not mentioned—due to their insignificance in public life—in laws that determine illegal behaviors. For example, in Greece there is a law that deems homosexuality a crime for men, while there is no law about women’s homosexuality.
Hundreds of years of oppression has led to the development of the feminist movement, which has allowed women around the world to reflect upon their roles and position in society and to redefine them. Men, from their position of power, have not had to reflect upon their roles and the limitations these put on them. They have only recently been given the chance to reflect upon these issues.
Gender Role Training
Roles attached to gender are so rigid around the world they often lead us to extreme inhumane actions that mark people for life.
Phyllis Burke, in Gender Shock, talks about how all our experience, from the time we are born, is colored by the power of gender role expectations By the time we can talk, she says, we have been through a rigorous gender training which has taught us the appropriate behavior for our gender.
Burke provides detailed case histories of children who have been treated by psychologists and psychiatrists in the United States for not adhering to accepted notions of “girl” and “boy” behavior. These children were considered to be at risk for adult homosexuality, transsexualism, and other “mental disorders” and were given treatments that ranged from behavioral therapy to hospitalization, medication, and electroshock. Such treatment led to irreparable damage to their self-esteem and identity.
Some of the behavior that is deemed alarming for girls is liking “rough-and- tumble play”, i.e., playing with darts, marbles, football, basketball, climbing trees, etc., not liking to wear a dress, standing with their hands on their hips, swinging their arms, taking big sure-footed strides, being too aggressive, or making statements of wanting to be a boy.
107
Respectively, for boys the alarming behavior is not liking “rough-and-tumble play”, showing an interest in female clothing, liking dolls and other “female” toys like kitchen utensils, hanging out and playing with the girls, being soft, making statements of wanting to be a girl.
Currently there is still a specific psychiatric diagnosis in the DSM-IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) called "Gender Identification Disorder of Childhood" (GIDC) that focuses on these children as pre-transsexual. Since homosexuality was eliminated as a mental disorder in 1973, it can no longer be use it as a reason to focus on GIDC—though there is a growing awareness that this diagnosis no longer seems so rare or uncommon, since it may occur in two percent to five percent of children in the general population.9
Although we might not use the extreme methods described above, we have all grown up with gender stereotypes and continue to train the next generations according to gender expectations and punishing our children for not conforming to set gender roles.
Burke mentions the following studies:
In a study done in 1993 by Patricia J. Bauer of the Institute of Child Development at the University of Minnesota the researchers concluded that toddler boys are more highly stereotyped than their female peers. Consistent with this suggestion, boys demonstrate same-sex stereotype toy preferences somewhat earlier than girls, and they avoid opposite-sex toys more than do girls. So powerful are the social forces that shape the typical male child, that by the age of twenty-five months, his mental ability to remember a female sex-stereotypic action sequence is impaired.10
A 1982 study of third-and fourth-grade children, conducted by Kay Bussey at Stanford and David Perry of Florida Atlantic University, found that the boys made a conscious decision not to perform what was perceived to be a “girl” behavior, not because they preferred same-sex models, but because they avoided anything that might identify them as engaging in a “girl” activity… In 1994, a New York Times/CBS poll found that teenage boys considered themselves superior to girls, and that girls know it. To engage in “girl” activities would taint their maleness and diminish their status. While the girls considered themselves equal to boys, boys believed that even most girls thought boys were “better than themselves”! Why would they
9 Ibid., p. 66. 10 Ibid., p. 194.
108 think otherwise? The boys have been trained this way from day one.11 Brain Research
The same author talks about research that focuses on finding innate, objective differences between male and female bodies. She says that “underlying this research for differences is a belief that many scientists bring with them into the laboratory before a single test has been performed: ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ behavior in males and females is rooted in biology.”12
According to Burke, the single most important fact in biological comparisons of the sexes seems to be that there are greater differences between men as a group, and between women as a group, than there are between men and women.
Scientists are beginning to report that, when at rest, the brains of men and women are indistinguishable from each other. It is only when the brain is awake and involved with its environment that they find there to be two exceptions: the “ancient and primitive regions involved with action” seem to have more activity in men, and “the newer and more complex regions involved in symbolic action” seem to have more activity in women. The two regions exist in both men and women, and so the same potential for use is present.13
For Burke the connection to social roles is apparent: women dominate the region of the brain that is symbolically-oriented while men dominate the region that is action-oriented. While some might see this as proof of innate differences in brain function between men and women, she says, “this might also profoundly demonstrate the power of masculine and feminine gender role training… Scientists may well be measuring the results of behavior on the brain, not the brain structure dictating behavior.”14
Burke quotes the findings of Melissa Hines, a neuropsychologist at UCLA who has been searching the callosum for sex differences and says that in all of the sex studies some of the women’s brains looked like the men’s. She points out that men are more exclusively channeled into one way of behaving; for example, girls play with boys’ toys more than boys play with girls’. “If playing with “boys’ toys” will cause a certain part of a girl’s brain, identified by scientists with males,
11 Ibid., p. 195. 12 Ibid., p. 188. 13 Ibid., p. 190. 14 Ibid., p. 191.
109 to develop more, then this is evidence of the impact of gender role behavior on shaping the human brain”15 says Burke.
She concludes,
Since sex-typed gender behavior would tend to stimulate one area of the brain more than another, denying the parts of ourselves that don’t fit in with the gender myths is literally taking a toll on our neural structure. Through gender independence, there is the amazing possibility that, if our behavior became more flexible in terms of notions of appropriate masculine and feminine roles, we could literally affect the structure of our brains and even the flow of hormones, which are tied into behavior and psychological response, not just reproduction.16
Gender Diversity
Burke also talks about how our understanding of gender rests on the solid assumption that there are two sexes, male and female, and that these are the only two types of human bodies walking the earth.
She says that in 1993, Dr. Anne Fausto-Sterling exploded this myth in her article “The Five Sexes: Why Male and Female Are Not Enough,” which appeared in The Sciences. Fausto-Sterling wrote that, biologically speaking, there are many gradations running from female to male, and that along that spectrum lie at least five, if not more, sexes.
The standard medical literature uses the term ‘intersex’ as a catch- all for three major subgroups with some mixture of male and female characteristics: the so-called true hermaphrodites, who possess one testis and one ovary; the male pseudohermaphrodites, who have testes and some aspects of the female genitalia but no ovaries; the female pseudohermaphrodites, who have ovaries and some aspects of the male genitalia but lack testes. Each of these categories however is in itself complex as the percentage of male and female characteristics can vary enormously among members of the same subgroup.17
15 Ibid., p. 194. 16 Ibid., p. 194. 17 Ibid., p. 220.
110 Fausto-Sterling went on to say that rather than being “experiments of nature”, these individuals are members of sexes just as viable as male and female who have been made invisible by the medical procedures performed on their bodies as infants since the 1960s onward. She concluded that, except in terms of life- threatening conditions, surgical intervention after birth was simply preventing the natural and real human physical diversity to become visible.
Burke says that the effects of these surgeries on people’s lives are more often than not devastating as they seldom feel they fit in the gender that has arbitrarily been ascribed to them, and they experience little if any sexual sensation due to how much of their genitalia is scarred or removed.
Native Americans have always honored the physical diversity of humans, making space and assigning special roles to people of the various sexes. Will Roscoe, in Changing Ones, talks in detail about the widely accepted berdaches, as these people have been termed, tracing their history up to the present. This diversity of gender is a common feature of Native North America. Berdaches, often considered holy, combine the work and social roles of men and women along with traits of their unique status.
Roscoe concludes,
North America was not unique in its diverse gender roles and identities. Examples of gender diversity can be found throughout the world. Indeed, at each horizon where we might begin to tell the human history—whether we are contemplating archaeological evidence; the earliest examples of writing; or humankind’s oldest social pattern, that of the hunter-gatherer—we find evidence of alternative genders and identities, of individuals who were notmen and notwomen, of gendered skills, roles, and characteristics mixed in symbolic and practical ways.”18
Epilogue to Social Reality
With the immense biodiversity that exists in nature, adhering rigidly to the stereotypical ideas about gender, roles and sexuality some of us have grown up with makes no sense. It hurts us, limits our experience of ourselves, and stops us from developing to the greatest of our potential, physically and emotionally. Sticking too closely to stereotypes keeps us from our wholeness.
18 Roscoe, Will. Changing Ones: Third and Fourth Genders in Native North America. St. Martin’s Press, 1988, p. 201.
111 We need to loosen up, allow ourselves and others to go beyond what our culture has deemed “appropriate”, and to open up to the vast worlds of experiences that exist within and around us.
112 Sexuality
Sex
Sex It's dirty Don't do it!
Shame on you!
If you're not a virgin you're a whore
Sh! Don't talk about it
Do it under the covers in the dark
Don't initiate
Don't move Don't make any sounds Don't show any signs of pleasure
Be free!
What's wrong with you? Why are you so uptight?
112 Womanhood
When womanhood came I had to cover myself up
I felt embarrassed not proud Was shamed not celebrated
It would have been so nice to have been welcomed into a circle of women initiated accompanied celebrated informed
It would have been so nice to not have been harassed in the street on the bus in the park all the time to not have to fear of sexual predators to not have to go through the struggle of feeling messed up to have felt at home in my body loved its changing shape and form
It would have been so nice if womanhood hadn't been associated with humiliation
113
exuality is one of the areas where women's oppression is apparent. Hundreds of thousands of women around the world are sexually repressed. SFemale genital mutilation is still an unavoidable fate for many women, as are restrictions in appearance and whereabouts. Women are sexually harassed, abused, exploited, and sold into servitude and prostitution daily.
There are so many aspects to this subject: history, politics, economics, and social implications, just to mention a few. Since it is impossible to cover them all, I will attempt to describe my personal struggles in discovering myself as a sensual, sexual being and the effect sexism has had on the way I have experienced my sexuality.
Hmm… I don't know if I can really do this. The minute I try all sorts of disturbing thoughts start racing through my mind. "It's too much; you shouldn't talk about these things in public; it's vulgar, obscene, inappropriate. This is a forbidden topic, what are you doing attempting to write about this?"
Taking back my freedom, moving through the shame.
As soon as I start thinking about this topic I start feeling like there is something wrong with me. I feel embarrassed and ashamed and have to stop and work on myself; try to identify the thoughts that make me feel this way so I can react to them instead of letting them have free reign.
"Are you really going to let everyone see how messed up you are? You better think twice before you expose yourself in this way. Besides, these are your personal problems, go work on them alone."
I'm not messed up, but mainstream attitudes towards women and sexuality are. These are everyone's issues, not just mine. The silence around issues of women's sexuality creates a painful isolation, which is part of the oppression.
My relationship to my body and my sexuality was deeply affected by the beliefs, attitudes and norms that were instilled in me by my family and social surroundings. I am so furious at these attitudes that make us feel guilty and ashamed, hindering our pleasure, turning sexuality—a natural biological process that's meant to be a source of life, joy and ecstasy, into a source of agony, deep pain, and humiliation. It's a crime.
114 This work is a picture of a moment in time, a state in an ongoing process. My experiences have given birth to the story of Esmeralda and her journey of discovery and healing.
Beware though! The various spirits in this story are very much alive and love manifesting in this reality. Perhaps if I introduce you to them it will be easier for you to keep an eye out while you are reading and catch them appearing in your own reactions.
One of the scariest ghosts in this story is a belief system around sexuality that has specific standards by which everyone's experience is judged and measured. I'm calling this spirit a ghost because it has a tendency to hide and stay in the background, effecting everyone's thoughts, feelings and behavior without them being aware of its presence.1
This belief system sees sexuality as a unified experience. It defines sex, the act of love making, as a penis penetrating a vagina with the explicit goal of reaching a climactic experience it names "orgasm". There is only one type of experience that qualifies to be called an orgasm, that which is stereotypically portrayed by the media. There is no room for individual experience. Any diversion from the "ideal" is labeled pathological ("frigid", "impotent", etc.) and carries shame. This belief system has specific ideas about what is and isn't sexy in terms of age, appearance, physical condition, mannerisms. Thin people are sexy, fat people aren't. Young people are sexy, old people aren't. A sexy woman walks likes this, a sexy man has this body type, and so on.
Another spirit in this story is that of the one who suffers from this ghost, feels judged, depressed, bad about itself and the experience it’s having.
Another is the spirit of Christian morality and sexual repression. A spirit that thinks that sex is a sin, tolerable for procreation but not for pleasure, to be kept a secret, not to be spoken about. A spirit that thinks of our bodies as something shameful, to be covered up, of our sexuality as a destructive urge to be controlled and overcome. A spirit that sees women as dangerous creatures, lustful temptresses.
Yet another spirit is the one that manifested in the sexual revolution of the 70s, that is against sexual repression and roots for sexual freedom.
This spirit brings with it two more; one that feels bad for not being free and one that is free.
1 I was introduced to the idea of ghost roles by Arnold Mindell. For more see Sitting in the Fire: Large Group Transformation Using Conflict and Diversity. Lao Tse Press, 1995.
115 Let us not forget though the ghost expressed by the belief system that recognizes sexuality as having as many faces as there are creatures on this earth. This ghost values the individual experience one is having. It sees the act of love making as the process of being with someone and treasuring the whole experience, not just the end result. It thinks of an orgasm as a multi-faceted experience and sees many different ways of having an ecstatic experience. It finds beauty in the authenticity of expression of one's being.
This ghost brings with it the spirit that enjoys its body and the relationship it is developing with it and feels proud for where it is and the journey it is taking.
And we shouldn’t forget the one standing outside of it all, telling the story!
Before we enter this story, I want to share with you how it came to be. In the beginning, I went deep into my personal experiences around my sexuality, writing about my dreams, body experiences and therapy sessions. Putting this journey on paper gave me an outside look, an overview, and a deeper understanding of what I had been struggling with over time.
It was healing to try to express myself freely, to write words I had never written before, to push myself to go over my shyness, be naked and feel beautiful and proud of who I am in my nakedness. It helped me break through the shame.
Another stage was going back to what I had written, trying to be sensitive this to the shyness and hesitations I had run over while trying to express myself freely. Realizing that I have a choice about when and to whom I reveal which parts of myself was an equally important part of the healing process.
116 Esmeralda's Story
smeralda was a happy little girl. One day while she was playing with her sister she felt a strange but wonderful sensation go through her body as her sisterE touched her in between her thighs. Mm! They were so excited! They had discovered a magical spot that opened up a door to a whole new world of physical sensations. Whenever they were alone, they would quickly get rid of their clothes and continue their journey of discovering the wonders of their bodies.
One day, they got so carried away they didn't hear the footsteps of their grandfather approaching and he almost caught them. They scrambled to their feet and had barely put their clothes on when he came into the room. Somehow they knew the world they were entering was a forbidden one for them, although they couldn't understand why that should be so. Grown-ups were weird!
Esmeralda grew older, and by the time she was eight she started feeling bad about her body. Her tummy was round and bigger than her classmates’ tummies. At home they started talking about her needing to go on a diet. She became very self-conscious, and started feeling embarrassed to go anywhere. She was jealous of her sisters and all her friends at school who were skinny. Although she was not fat, she felt like she was. Her body became a source of misery and she started hating it.
One day as she went to the bathroom to pee she saw blood on her panties. Though she knew about girls menstruating from her older sister, it still frightened her. She didn't know what it was all about or why it happened. All she knew was that this was something that happened to girls as they grow up and is something you don't talk about in public. Her mother gave her a sanitary napkin and showed her how to put it on, but the quietness around the event made Esmeralda feel like something shameful and bad had just happened. Sanitary napkins in those days were very thick. Walking with such a mass between her legs was very uncomfortable, and they hardly ever stayed in place so she was always on the watch for blood leaks. It had happened to her more than once that she was called to the blackboard in class only to realize that blood had dripped through her clothes onto the chair. It was so dreadful having to walk to the blackboard knowing that everyone would see the stain. It was so humiliating. Menstruation was considered dirty and disgusting in those days.
Her body started changing and her womanly curves started to shape themselves. Her tummy wasn’t getting any smaller and her breasts had grown bigger than those of most girls her age, which made her feel even more self-conscious. Sexual harassment was an everyday occurrence as men on the road commented on her body parts as she walked by. At that time, a man nicknamed "the dragon"
117 by the newspapers was raping and killing young women, leaving their bodies at a remote field in her neighborhood.
At home one day her father got angry with her for coming out of the bathroom naked, and her mother told her that from then on she had to cover up her nakedness.
A young teenager now, she was left alone to make sense out of all the changes happening to her, feeling that anything that had to do with her body and her sexuality was dirty and shameful and potentially a source of danger. This was a forbidden zone she had better stay away from.
Now she was scared of her sexuality and the world around her and perplexed by all of it.
The older she got the more different she felt from other girls her age. She had never dated nor had a boyfriend while she was in high school. Her ignorance, nervousness, shyness, and fear around anything that had to do with her body and her sexuality made her feel like she had been left behind, never to catch up.
Next she started feeling bad for being in a complex about the whole thing, for not being able to be the sexually liberated being she was supposed to be, free and at ease. She got depressed and gained a lot of weight, which made her feel even worse about herself.
The first time she made out with somebody was at a party on her nineteenth birthday. They were lying in bed hugging and kissing, which she was enjoying, when he suddenly put his finger inside her. It happened so fast that she freaked out. She felt invaded and ran away. What freaked her out even more was how dirty and guilty she started feeling right after. All the pleasure she had felt had been replaced by a feeling of guilt that came over her so heavily that she could hardly breathe.
Her first experience of making love in her mid twenties was closer to an experience of rape in the sense that she felt forced into it. She was terrified and ran over her feelings; there was an absence of any notion of her pleasure having anything to do with the experience.
After that, she had two similar experiences. She was scared and insecure, didn't know what she was supposed to do, and felt terribly ashamed of her inexperience. Her physical pleasure never seemed to be part of the scene. She never felt anything except pain and the feeling of being invaded. She felt like an anonymous body that men were using for their pleasure. She continued to feel there was something wrong with her because she had never had an orgasm and had never enjoyed sexual contact.
118 A few years later she fell in love with a man from a different culture. While in that relationship, things started to change for her. He was the first man who treated her differently. He was in love with her, which she could feel. His love created a space for her to share her feelings of being invaded while making love. He was shocked at first, but was then able to open up and try to understand her experience. His tenderness and love helped her relax a little and she started feeling some slight sensations in her womb, her vagina, and her thighs after making love, which she enjoyed. At the age of twenty-eight she started loving her body a little bit through him. She still felt like there was something wrong with her because of the expectation of "the" orgasm that never seemed to come.
It wasn't until seven years later that it dawned on her that there was nothing wrong with her and her sexuality, that her body was very much alive and loved to be touched and cared for. It's hard to describe how she got there. This came along with a lot of other changes, the biggest of which had to do with loving herself.
A few months after she had fallen in love, she had left her homeland and gone abroad to study and be with the people who had captured her heart. Leaving a culture that was rooted in community life to go to one where individual freedom was highly valued was freeing and helpful to her at that point when she needed the time and the space to focus on herself.
Her edges—the boundaries of her identity—were not only personal; some were also familial and cultural. Getting out of her culture, away from her family and friends, leaving everything behind and starting over in a place where no one knew her gave her the freedom to redefine herself. It made it easier for her to go over edges, to drop her personal history, drop who she had grown to be.
Being part of a community that tried to be aware of and work on the different issues on all levels—intra-psychically, in relationships, and on the social level— was crucial, for it helped her realize that what she was dealing with was not just a matter of her personal psychology.
Love played an important role. Being with people who loved and believed in her when she couldn't love and believe in herself changed her life. When she first arrived she was scared and unsure of herself. She felt incapable and unworthy, but they had patience and didn't turn against her. They saw who she was beneath it all, watered the soil with love, and waited for her to sprout.
During those seven years they helped her learn how to follow her dreaming as it manifested in the environment, her dreams, body experiences, addictions, altered states, and relationship problems, which made her feel closer to her nature. They mirrored the beauty of her being, and through this process her self- confidence and self-love slowly developed.
119 The elf and the mermaid I told you about in the first chapter were two creatures that accompanied her frequently on this journey of hers. But there were many other helpful creatures that contributed their magic along the way: the mountain pixie, the nixie, the earthy fairy, the heavenly creature moonly, the monk, and the dancing spirit. They all shared a way of thinking and perceiving that was freeing for her. Their viewpoint went beyond the world of duality, of good and bad, where one has to hold on to the good and get rid of the bad, to the notion that everything is a needed and valuable part of one’s wholeness. Discovering the idea that she could just make space for her experiences to unfold and reveal their meaning was life changing for her.
Her relationship with both the mermaid and the elf was important in the whole process. They fathered and mothered her, helping her give birth to herself. The mermaid was real with her, and their relationship became personal and intimate. She hung in there with Esmeralda through all the ups and downs; each difficulty they encountered deepened their relationship. Being loved and supported by another woman, having the chance to talk about things she had never talked about before with other women, sharing experiences and struggles, and hanging out together in the unknown looking for the next sign was incredibly healing. Over the years their sessions turned into a dance they improvised together, a dance that magically wove together all the spirits and elements that were around.
The elf was her backbone and helped her develop her own spine. He was there in the background, believing in her, holding and supporting her with his love. One of the most healing things for her was the way he was open to all the deep feelings she had for him; the way he made her reality his own. She felt seen, understood, validated, honored, respected, admired, loved, and cherished. There were times when his love was the only source of happiness in her life, what kept her alive and going. She leaned on him and that was all right; he never made her feel like she was worth less because she needed him. At the same time, he never stopped supporting her autonomy; he always helped her see that what she was seeing in him was herself, that he was she looking at herself through his eyes. They all helped her open up to and love all that she is.
Following are some written snapshots of this seven-year journey. I contemplated shortening the descriptions to make it easier for the reader, but felt that this would not do justice to the repetitive nature and time a process takes to unfold. Also, in the description of Esmeralda's journey I'm not distinguishing between dreaming and consensus reality,2 but trying to show the unity of the process.
2 “Dreaming” is the power giving rise to the realm of dreams, fantasies, imagination, intuition, feelings, and body sensations. “Consensus reality” is the everyday reality that we all consent to being real. (Terms introduced into Process Work by Arny Mindell. Definitions taken from personal notes.)
120 Journey Within
The first encounter
The first time Esmeralda came in contact with the elf and many of the other creatures she would be around for the next seven years of her life was atop high mountains covered in snow. They all spoke a strange language she couldn’t quite understand.
One of those nights she found herself back in her house in her homeland. A man had broken in with the intention of raping her; not finding her there, he had captured and tortured her dog, taking out its claws.
The next morning she shared this experience with the elf and all the other creatures and ended up working in the middle of a group at the seminar she was attending. It was the first time she clearly got in touch with something powerful in herself as she was showing them how to get out of the grip of a rapist. She felt like she got part of her claws back that day.
The next afternoon during a coma work exercise she found herself going into a trance and had a hard time coming out when the time came for them to get back together as a group. Moonly and the elf came over and encouraged her to go deeper into the state she was in, helping her complete that process, which turned into an ecstatic experience of being connected with the universe.
Moonly was a heavenly creature who hung out with the elf when she wasn’t hanging out in her own world. Esmeralda found a sister spirit in her. At the end of that first week with all those creatures she was incredibly happy. At last she had found home.
Back in her homeland a few weeks later a thought woke Esmeralda in the middle of the night. “There’s nothing meaningful for me here in the moment. I’m going to follow them across the ocean!” Her heart’s path had revealed itself and she was set on following it.
Resistance
Though she had already met the mermaid and knew she was the one she wanted to work with, Esmeralda refused for a whole year to arrange ahead of time when she would go and see her. She wanted to have the freedom to dive into the water whenever she felt she needed. Though she wanted so much to be there, a part of her was reacting like crazy to the fact that she was getting involved with psychology. That part of her had had enough! Esmeralda never recorded those earlier encounters with the mermaid.
121 Forced distance
After a year, Esmeralda had to go back to her homeland due to visa problems, but this forced stay helped her realize how much she really wanted to be across the ocean. It also gave her the opportunity to work and realize how much she had already learned during the year she had been away. Twelve months later she left her homeland again, this time knowing she wouldn’t come back for a while.
Encounter with the Eagle
Two nights after she had left Esmeralda was lying naked on the top of a mountain next to a woman who was also naked. She was looking up into the sky when suddenly she saw a huge bird, an eagle, coming down and landing on her belly. Esmeralda was terrified.
This bird had a human element to it; it talked and its face was a mixture of a man’s and a bird’s face. “We know one another, we’re friends,” the bird said to the other woman, “But we haven’t met, we’re not friends yet!” the bird said, turning to Esmeralda and sinking its nails into her belly, creating a tattoo.
Esmeralda was so scared that her body was all tense. The bird’s nails really hurt. But as she looked closer at what the bird was doing, she noticed that its claws touched her belly lightly and the nails then slid out slowly and penetrated her skin. She realized that what the bird was doing didn’t really hurt. It was her fear that was creating the pain! She tried to relax and allow the bird to finish. When it did, she looked down at her belly and saw a circle with a cross tattooed inside. The then bird told her it wanted to make another tattoo on the inside of her left thigh. Esmeralda felt her body tense up again, fearing the tattoo would hurt more on that sensitive spot, but she lay back and tried to relax.
122 After a while the bird finished and flew away. Esmeralda looked at her thigh and saw an inscription in Greek that read “Ο ΣΩΖΩΝ ΕΑΥΤΟΝ ΣΩΘΗΤΩ”, meaning “He who saves himself will be saved”! She wasn’t sure if this was a Christian or an ancient Greek saying, but it was a well known one that was commonly used to mean “Run for your life!” “Am I going to go around with that written on me for the rest of my life?” Esmeralda thought to herself, terrified. But the next moment a wave of euphoria swept through her that remained with her for much of the next day.
Connecting with the universe
Two months later Esmeralda dived into the ocean in search of the mermaid. It was so beautiful beneath the surface as the light of the sun shone on the flowers and corals spread out on the seabed. There were so many different creatures swimming about that Esmeralda was mesmerized. It was full of life down there. She found the mermaid making friends with a huge sea turtle that had just arrived at those waters.
The mermaid reached over and touched Esmeralda’s hand, which made her break into tears. “I’m touched and I’m scared,” Esmeralda said. “What are you scared of?” asked the mermaid. “That you won’t come close,” replied Esmeralda. “What do you mean?” asked the mermaid. “What do you need from me? What do I have to do?” “Everything!” replied Esmeralda. “Esmeralda you’ve changed!” exclaimed the mermaid. “You would have never said that a year ago! You mean you’re going to be needy?”
Esmeralda then told her about her encounter with the eagle. “The eagle wants to get into your belly!” said the mermaid, and encouraged her to lie on her back and focus on that part of her body. Esmeralda lay on her back with her knees bent. After a while the mermaid put her hand on Esmeralda’s trembling legs and Esmeralda felt her knees start to open. “That’s right, open up. Let yourself open up,” said the mermaid. Esmeralda felt her knees slowly drop towards the side. “Go even further than what your body allows,” said the mermaid after a while, gently pushing Esmeralda’s knees towards the seabed. “Go all the way.”
Esmeralda felt her hands leave her tummy and start moving upward until they were stretched all the way out. She felt she was reaching for the universe. Then she started having the strange sensation that her body was receiving from the universe. After a while her hands moved down and closed in front of her. She curled up on her side and stayed like that until she was back.
This was the second time in her life she had ever experienced something that was so hard to put into words. The mermaid accompanied her all the way to the surface and bid her farewell.
123
Fighting neediness
A few weeks later Esmeralda was at the bottom of the ocean again. The mermaid and she had discovered a part of her that was needy and a part that felt like going away.
“I’m a baby, I need to be loved, I need you!” the mermaid was saying while sitting in a corner crying. “I can’t stand your needing to be loved any more! I don’t want to have anything to do with you. You’re too much of a burden to carry around. Stop being needy. Grow up. Why can’t you be independent? Leave me alone. Get out of my life. I hate you,” answered Esmeralda.
Esmeralda kept pushing the mermaid away, but the mermaid kept coming back until finally Esmeralda gave in and cradled the mermaid in her arms. To her surprise, this was a relief. After a while she got impatient and asked the mermaid, who was still speaking for the needy part, “How long do I have to take care of you?” “All my life!” replied the mermaid “I’m a neglected, unwanted baby. You never wanted me. Why did you give birth to me if you didn’t want me?”
Esmeralda suddenly realized she was neglecting her own neediness by thinking she had to be independent, which at least momentarily changed her attitude towards herself.
Taking up space
The following week Esmeralda went to look for the mermaid. She was tired of being overweight and wanted the mermaid to help her get the weight’s message, hoping she could then get rid of it—not that it ever works that way!
The mermaid went into her cave and brought out a pillow that Esmeralda stuffed under her blouse. “Go ahead and imagine being even fatter,” said the mermaid. As Esmeralda walked around with the pillow underneath her blouse, feeling huge, she had an insight! “It’s all about taking up space!” she said. “Feeling I have the right to speak up, taking space in groups, in relationships.”
Somehow the weight no longer seemed to be an issue. From that perspective it was irrelevant.
Life myth
Weeks had passed when Esmeralda set on the trail that led to the forest to go and find the elf. It was a warm day and the forest was buzzing with life. Walking past a small stream, Esmeralda saw the elf sitting on the bank basking in the
124 warmth of the sun. She sat down next to him and told him about her encounter with the eagle.
“The eagle spirit has claimed you,” he told her. “That is your real nature. The eagle soars high, it has an overview. It grabs what it wants; it tells the others what to do.” Esmeralda asked the elf about the naked woman lying next to her during the encounter with the bird. She had recently fallen in love with a woman for the first time, which had been an intense experience for her. “This is not about relationships. This is about shamans,” the elf told her. Shamans heal themselves before they heal others. You have to go deep inside and ask the eagle spirit what it wants, and you have to ask it about all facets of your life.” Esmeralda sat quietly for a long time pondering the elf’s words.
“This is a life long experience, Esmeralda. You will be working on aspects of it for years to come. It’s about being a teacher—you’re high up on a mountaintop. About being yourself in the world—you’re naked. About connecting to the divine in a different way—you’re lying next to a naked woman. About knowledge coming from your gut—the tattoo is on your belly. About knowledge coming from going into the unknown—there’s a hole in which there is a structure, a circle with a cross in it. About working with people in your own relaxed way—you’re lying down.”
The domination of neediness
Four months later Esmeralda was sitting with the mountain pixie on a ledge overlooking a village in the valley below. She had met the mountain pixie the year before when the Tao chose her to be the one he worked with in the middle of a group. He had been incredibly there with her, very warm and tender, and they had gone far in an area she had never worked on before, her sexuality. Something in his nature pulled her to him, so every now and then she climbed the mountain to find him.
That day Esmeralda was in a nasty mood that she had little control over. She wanted the mountain pixie to take care of her by adjusting his fee to her financial situation. The pixie was irritated by something demanding in her and felt the need to stand for his own worth and value. He didn’t feel like giving. This made her even more moody.
The pixie noticed the mood and helped her stay with it and study what she was feeling. Esmeralda was deeply sad and all she could do was cry. Going more deeply into these feelings, she discovered a baby who couldn’t speak yet and needed the other one to know what she needed and provide it for her. “Did they love this baby?” asked the pixie. “They did and they didn’t,” she said. “How didn’t they?” he asked. “They were afraid of it,” she said.
125 The pixie started role-playing the needy baby and a strong reaction came up in her. “Shut up! I’m sick of you. I’m tired of feeling so sad and needy, just go away!” She was irritated and hated it.
“This needy baby has been dominating your internal scene. Being afraid of it, having no model for how to say stop in a loving way, makes it difficult to end the terrorizing and domination of it,” said the pixie, stepping over to her side to help her. “Listen here sweetheart,” he said to the baby, “this is enough. I love you and I’m going to take care of you but I also need to mother and nurture my other parts. I need to take care of all of you!”
As the pixie was talking she breathed deeply and felt relieved. She understood now! Mothering all of her was the way. This included mothering the baby without being afraid of it but without hating it either. Saying no to it didn’t necessarily mean not loving it!
As she left, she was thinking of her smoking habit and something the pixie had said. “Being afraid of this part, feeling powerless to say no, to set boundaries, opens the door to addictions because there is nobody around who can say no!” Maybe this was part of the reason she had never been able to quit smoking even though she had been thinking about it for years.
Holding back
Esmeralda went down to the shore looking for the mermaid. She was feeling depressed and alone. It had been many months since she had last seen her. After a while she spotted the mermaid on top of a dolphin’s back and dived into the ocean to join them.
The night before she had been jogging and then she had died. The sensation of freedom she had experienced while running had stayed with her. They went into movement work, but after a while Esmeralda stopped. She had had an impulse to jump on the mermaid but was too shy to even tell her about it. Something inside was telling her she couldn’t do this because it was too intimate.
Trying to negotiate with this voice inside they were both surprised when they heard it tell Esmeralda not to let it stop her anymore. “The only way you’re going to get around me is if you just do it! Don’t try to negotiate with me, just do it!”
Esmeralda then jumped on the mermaid and soon they were both rolling around on the ocean bed, hugging one another. “Yes! Freedom! Freedom to follow your impulses which bring you close to people!” said the mermaid. “You hold back all your warmth and contactfulness and you feel alone and depressed.”
Esmeralda had been keeping herself back in her interactions with the people by not acting on her impulses, deeming them inappropriately intimate, and seeing
126 them as proof of her low self worth. “You just want to give because you need people’s approval and love!” a voice inside said, turning her against her feeling nature.
“This attitude towards yourself is dying!” said the mermaid. “Your touch, your good-heartedness and warmth, your wanting to give is not sick, it’s part of your shine. Just follow your impulses with people, give freely, become intimate, allow your feelings to come through.”
Under the elf’s wings
The following week Esmeralda went to the forest and found the elf sitting in a big oak tree. She climbed up and sat across from him. “Throughout my life I’ve had a recurring experience of my teeth falling out. It always makes me panic,” Esmeralda told him as soon as she settled down. “How do you feel being here with me?” asked the elf, making her lose her balance and fall off the branch!
“What happened to you?” asked the elf. “I blanked out!” said Esmeralda, climbing back up. “I’m shy to share all the feelings I have for you; it would be too much!” “Don’t worry, I can take it, however much it is!” encouraged the elf. “Come on, show me how you feel about me.”
Esmeralda caught on to a root that was hanging in front of her, swung over to his branch, and hugged him tight. She stayed there for a while. It was such a relief to allow herself to feel all the feelings she had for him.
“I feel you are my father,” Esmeralda told him. “Last night you were hosting my parents at your house.” “I’m going to be your father, your lover, everything! And it’s all right, it’s natural,” said the elf. “Our psyches are connected. You should come visit me more often, I will parent you.”
Esmeralda was so happy! She was stunned that the elf had taken her feelings and experience of him so seriously that he had altered his reality to include hers. “I remember the first time I saw you work I thought to myself, this woman is a shaman. Do you know that about yourself?” he asked her. “No, not really,” she replied. “When I look into your eyes and let myself dream, I see a leader,” he told her.
Before she left Esmeralda asked him again what he thought about her experience of her teeth falling out. “Teeth chew on things, they represent thinking, but they also block things from coming out, feelings. So, if you lose them, you bring out your feelings!”
Esmeralda was ecstatic for a few hours, but after a while her heart filled with fear and doubts and she started getting paranoid. She was terrified of becoming
127 emotionally dependent on him and it was hard for her to believe that he had really meant all that he had said to her.
“He doesn’t really mean it, don’t get carried away! Don’t invest emotionally in him, you’ll get hurt. I warn you! How many times does it have to happen to you before you learn? You build people up inside, making them into something they’re not, get emotionally involved, only to discover they’re not who you thought they were and get terribly hurt. Don’t do it!”
The way he had responded to the feelings she had for him had touched her deeply, but she was getting so suspicious now. She couldn’t understand… Why would he take on parenting her? Why would he do such a thing? It seemed so huge to her. How could he be so totally there for so many people? How could he live in so many realities? How could he take on so many different roles?
Then she started thinking about herself. “This job is really difficult! Why am I getting involved again with psychology? Why can’t I just be a normal human being, stay in one job, find a partner and have kids? What am I doing here? Am I suppose to do something specific?”
Her left hand started vibrating and she decided to follow it. She let the shaking go to her whole hand and then her upper body and head. Her teeth started rattling and then her whole body started to shake. She tried to just let it run through her. The wave came and left twice. Esmeralda remembered all the times this had happened to her before, how embarrassed she always felt about it, how she would run to the bathroom trying to make the shaking stop. She thought of the altered states shamans get into and freaked out! She didn’t want to go there alone. She didn’t want to go there at all!
That night she was in a room full of men. They were all psychiatrists who were waiting to have it out with her dad because he was part of big international organizations and wouldn’t let anyone else in. She was standing in a corner telling her mom there’s no way around it, he has to open up and let these people in or he will be killed because that’s the natural course of events like this. Her father though never showed up. A man went to the empty seat that was his and punched it twice, saying to the others, “This is our problem.” Then a man started speaking in French. A group process was beginning, and she was thinking to herself, “There’s nothing I can I do now. He’s not here so the only way left for these people is to get furious at him, form a coalition against him and eventually overthrow him.”
Then she was on a very small island in her homeland. She had just bought a new sports car, really low, with a hood that opened. When she went to drive it she realized it was covered with sand. She started trying to dig it out, but was scared that the sand might cover her up and she would be buried alive. The moment she
128 thought that, it happened, but she didn’t suffocate like she had feared. She could still breathe!
Then somehow the car was free and she was driving it down a hill when she discovered that the brakes did not work. She panicked, but the car rolled down the hill and eventually stopped without crashing into anything. She had no warranty for the car, so it would cost a lot to fix the brakes.
Esmeralda ran to the ocean and dived in, looking for the mermaid. She was so perplexed with all that was happening. The minute she found her she asked her if all the feelings she was having for the elf were what people called transference! “There is no psychological explanation to your feelings!” the mermaid told her. “That is your jealous father trying to wreck the whole experience. The universe is giving you a father, take it in!”
Esmeralda closed her eyes, breathed deeply and took it all in. Her eyes filled up. She felt blessed that the mermaid and the elf had appeared in her life and were there to love her and support what was inside of her. The mermaid helped her shapeshift into the universe and Esmeralda started blessing the mermaid, who was standing in for Esmeralda, bathing her in love. “I’m going to give you all the love you need to bloom and flower. I can see you, a flower coming out of dry, cracked earth. I understand your panic about being on a path with no turning back. This is what you’re here for, just be yourself, let your weirdness develop! You will effect the world by being your naked self.”
“The father inside is dying!” said the mermaid “He is not there to negotiate so you are replacing him with a new one, you are opening up to new ideas. The new car is light and low, close to the ground. It doesn’t have brakes but it stops by itself when it’s time for it to stop. There is no guarantee in this way of life!”
Then they started working with her experience of being buried alive under the sand. The mermaid told Esmeralda that being buried alive was a typical shamanic initiation. She told her to hold her breath and notice what happened to her. As Esmeralda held her breath her muscles started to relax. Her shoulders went down, her head followed, and she started curling up. The image of an insect with a lot of legs that turns into a little ball when you touch it came to her mind. She became a ball and started rolling around, but after a while she stopped. She felt dizzy and nauseated and couldn’t stand it.
The mermaid noticed that she was holding her head with the palms of her hands while she was rolling and encouraged her to go back to the rolling and let her head go free. Esmeralda tried it, really letting go this time, and as she was rolling she felt her blouse going up until it was almost off! The mermaid encouraged her to let it come off, and after a while she was rolling around the cave naked. It felt so good to be rolling around like that! She felt she was just being, without any
129 criticisms hanging over her head holding her down, without being embarrassed of her body, just being.
“If the father wasn’t already dead he most probably had a heart attack when your blouse came off!” said the mermaid when Esmeralda stopped rolling and shared how she had felt with the mermaid.
The strange thing was that in the beginning of their encounter the mermaid had taken Esmeralda into her cave and rolled a huge rock over the entrance. At the time she couldn’t figure out why she had done this, but thought it must be part of the dreaming. Now as they were talking about the whole experience they thought it must have somehow been part of creating safety for her nakedness.
Joy
A month later a friend of Esmeralda’s from her homeland was giving her a haircut when suddenly she started drilling a hole in Esmeralda’s head! First she drilled one on the right side and then wanted to drill another on the left side. Esmeralda didn’t want to let her drill a second hole because it hurt a lot, but her friend told her it would be better that way, since otherwise they might need to drill an ever bigger one later.
The next morning Esmeralda was feeling sad and lonely, so she went down to that coast and dived into the ocean to find the mermaid. As the mermaid held her in her arms Esmeralda told her about the weird experience she had had the night before. The mermaid asked her what her friend’s name meant in English and Esmeralda told her it meant joy! They both cracked up laughing. Esmeralda hadn’t thought about that!
“We need to open up some holes in your head for joy to come in and make you lighter!” said the mermaid. “When was the last time you remember feeling happy?” “A little while ago, as I was driving to come to the ocean!” replied Esmeralda. “The sun was shinning on my face as I was listening to a song I love a lot.” The mermaid asked her to sing that song and translate the words for her. In the song, someone was talking to god and the moon! “It’s god and the moon you need to talk to!” said the mermaid, and had her shapeshift into them.
“Joy is coming, don’t worry Esmeralda!” said the moon. “Why am I alone?” asked the mermaid. “Am I fucked up?” “Love is here!” replied the moon. “Let me drill a hole and take those thoughts out so love can come in!”
Putting herself down
It was the day after Christmas and Esmeralda was talking to her older sister on the phone: S: “I saw a picture of you! You’re pretty!”
130 E: “I’m fat...” S: “You’re pretty!” E: “I’m fat...” As she hung up the phone Esmeralda thought to herself, “Here is the whole problem right in my face! I can’t see my own beauty. I’m putting myself down. I’m totally identified with this critical voice inside. Being confident, feeling good about myself, beautiful, sensual is scary and unknown.” Co-creating
A few months later Esmeralda and the mermaid were feeling a bit stuck as they sat on their favorite spot amidst the coral. “Let’s draw a picture together!” said Esmeralda. The mermaid was surprised, since she had never done such a thing before, but she liked Esmeralda’s idea. The mermaid swam over to her cave and brought out some colors and a big piece of paper and the two of them started drawing. Intrigued by the atmosphere, sea horses gathered around them, forming a spiral that reached all the way up to the surface of the sea.
After a while Esmeralda and the mermaid ended up with a drawing of the two of them sitting in a car that was being held up in the air by a naked woman whose pelvic area was bright red, orange and yellow. Surrounded by nature spirits, this woman was rising out of the blackness. The wind was blowing and lightning was striking. The spirits and the gods were angry at Esmeralda and the mermaid for sitting in their little car, maintaining an “appropriate” relationship, holding on to what they were perceiving as safety, instead of coming out and meeting them.
The mermaid had put herself in the back, saying that she was trying to follow Esmeralda, but Esmeralda wanted them both in the front seat. She wanted to get out of the car and dive into that mysterious, unknown, raw wildness together.
The woman had appeared through the mermaid’s hand. The mermaid was an integral part of this process that seemed to have to do with womanhood,
131 sexuality, freedom, celebration, the power of being naked in the world. Wherever they were heading, they were going to get there together. They were joined in the world of dreaming. They were kindred spirits. Rising impulses
A week later one night Esmeralda was with the elf in a bakery in her homeland. The elf asked her to feel something, so she put her hand over the front of his pants and felt something very soft. It felt to her like the top of a baby duck’s head. Suddenly she realized it was the top of his penis! His zipper was open and the top of his penis was out in the air! “I leave it open so it can breathe, so it’s free!” he told her, hugging her warmly.
A few days later she was sitting with the mermaid on a big formation of lava rocks on the shore. In those days Esmeralda use to wear an oversized sweatshirt that was long like a dress. She felt comfortable in it because it hid her body and gave her the illusion that she looked thin. The mermaid encouraged her to take it off and notice how she felt.
Esmeralda took it off and started walking around with her T-shirt tightly tucked underneath her leggings. Her shoulders went back, her chest came out, and her head came up. It felt freeing walking around like that, but suddenly she thought about how she looked and wanted to cover herself up again. She was too fat to be exposing her body in that way, it was unattractive, ugly, disgusting.
While Esmeralda was voicing all the thoughts against showing her body, the mermaid suddenly started trying to seduce this voice! For a moment the voice was seduced and stopped saying all those wicked thoughts. Esmeralda loved it when the mermaid seduced her, but she also freaked out! She had had the impulse to touch her but was too shy and embarrassed to even say anything. Instead she sat down and started stroking her own leg.
As she was doing that she remembered stroking the top of the elf’s penis and how soft and tender it had felt. When the mermaid heard about Esmeralda’s encounter with the elf in the bakery, she asked Esmeralda to feel all the softness and tenderness that was inside her. The mermaid said to Esmeralda, “You have to open up the zipper and let your body breathe, let your impulses live. They’re beautiful, they’re you.”
Shyness
A month later Esmeralda packed her little backpack and headed out to the forest to visit the elf. She had been feeling so anxious all day but couldn’t understand why. Every time she had thought about her pending visit she had to take a deep breath to cool herself down. “Cool down from what?” she wondered. This feeling reminded her of how she felt when she was about to meet someone she was in
132 love with. But was she in love with the elf? She couldn’t be! It was crazy and absurd. She wasn’t going to allow any indulgence in such thoughts!
When she entered the elf’s cabin her heart was beating so loudly she was afraid he would hear it! “Come on, just try for a minute not to be shy!” said the elf as he opened the door to greet her. The elf never ceased to surprise her with the way he seemed to be able to see right through her!
Esmeralda tried but couldn’t allow herself to explore what she would do if she weren’t shy. What if something sexual came out of her? “I’m not going to let you get into that! It’s wrong and unethical. Don’t you dare fall in love with the elf! No way woman, no way!” she thought to herself, wondering if the elf already knew what her shyness was all about! Here she was, barely through the door, up against her most central edge, wondering how had she gotten herself into that spot.
The elf tried a few more times to make her experiment with not being shy, but when he saw that it was too much for her, he shared the feelings he had for her instead. “You’re deep water, an ancient woman, and that’s meaningful to me,” he said. His words soothed something deep inside her. “He sees me.” Esmeralda thought to herself. “He’s seeing the me I’m trying to get to.”
“Can I visit you more often?” she asked. “Of course!” exclaimed the elf. “You’re thinking to yourself, if I’m so meaningful to you, why don’t you tell me to come visit more often? You’re 32 years old, you don’t identify with what I see in you! I have to help you believe in yourself, be who you are, be present. I will!” he told her.
Esmeralda was too shy to show him how happy that made her, but she was ecstatic. Having someone she loved so much see her, believe in her and take on helping her become all of herself was the biggest gift the universe could ever give her. She was eternally grateful.
The words of her dying friend echoed in her ears: “You can’t fight your fate Esmeralda. You have to give up your will power. That won’t get you anywhere. The sooner you stop fighting it, the better you’ll be!”
“I need to stop worrying about being different, about not being normal!” she thought to herself. “What’s normal, anyway? I am my own truth. The sooner I open up to it, the better. I need to believe in myself. Why is it so difficult to believe in myself? Maybe because until now I’ve thought there is something wrong with me! But suddenly something new has come into my life, an opening. It’s just another way of seeing things, but it gives me freedom to be who I am, experience what I’m experiencing, be fully in the moment, be open to what wants to come through me or into my life. That’s the kind of life I want to live. That’s what turns me on. I should just go for it! Go girl! Go!”
133
Experiencing the restrictions in her body
One day about a month later, Esmeralda started having a strange burning sensation on her foot. She felt the heat and wondered what it was. She took a dive into the ocean and found the mermaid swimming among a group of dolphins. In the midst of the dolphins’ songs Esmeralda started telling the mermaid about an experience she had recently had one night.
“It was the weirdest experience,” Esmeralda exclaimed. “I was lying in bed with a woman, caressing her breasts and getting turned on, and then suddenly I found myself sitting on my father’s wheelchair.”
The mermaid asked Esmeralda to lie down, feel her body, and find where each experience was. Esmeralda felt her father’s wheelchair in her chest and caressing the woman’s breast in her vagina. “What relationship do those two parts of your body have?” asked the mermaid. “None whatsoever!” said Esmeralda. “There is no connection between them, they are totally separate.”
As she was lying down, Esmeralda’s hands rested on her belly and then moved a little lower where they stopped. She stayed there with her hands frozen for what seemed like eternity. She knew her hands wanted to go lower but she couldn’t allow that to happen. The mermaid put her hand just a tiny bit lower and encouraged Esmeralda to allow her hands to move freely. As she allowed her hands to move, Esmeralda noticed her breath getting shorter and her jaws tightening up.
The mermaid encouraged her to experiment with allowing her hand even more freedom and asked her to pay attention and notice the sensations she was having in her whole body, not just the upper part. Esmeralda let her hand go even lower and with one finger lightly pressed on her clitoris, focusing on both the sensations of getting turned on and not being able to breathe. As she was focusing on the tiny short breaths she was now taking she realized that something inside was forbidding her to breathe. “Don’t breathe deeply,” this voice said. “You can breathe just enough so that you survive but not so deep that you really live.”
She felt like she was dealing with a family ghost that wasn’t allowing them to live, to experience their bodies, to be happy, to enjoy life fully. Esmeralda started breathing deeply into her vagina and her whole body felt connected. Then she remembered the burning sensation she had been having lately on her foot. Her foot had been getting turned on!
134 Esmeralda was deeply touched by that work. It was a revelation for her to experience the restrictions in her body, to notice the shortening of her breath. There was something awesome about experiencing the whole struggle in her body. Until then she had thought everything was due to her fucked-up mind! That night her mother told her the house she was born in was deteriorating and had to be torn down. She found herself in a new house feeding nuts to a small baby animal that she was afraid of, which someone said was a baby wolf. After that two female lions, a male one, and an elephant came into the room!
When the mermaid heard about the appearance of all these animals she sent Esmeralda a little note. “Esmeralda you bring tears to my eyes. I love being part of your journey, the crumbling of old structures and the birth of the instinctive, natural, beautiful animal that you are. Welcome to this life with all of who you are!”
Holding back
Two months later Esmeralda was rolling around on the grass in a small opening behind the elf’s cabin as he helped her follow her unknown movements. When she stopped, she found her hands on his chest. “If you keep your contactfulness inside,” he told her “it becomes heavy and you feel lonely, but if you bring it out you’re happy and it’s really nice for the other one! You help me feel myself the way you touch me!” he told her.
Still holding back
The following week Esmeralda found the elf sitting in a cave formed by the roots of a huge tree! She told him about her crush on a beautiful, earthy woman and how shy she felt to make a move. The elf encouraged her to tell this woman how sexy she thought she was, share with her everything she felt inside. “You might get rejected but that doesn’t matter! What matters is being free to express your feelings. Go for it! Follow your heart!”
Inner well-being
Two months later Esmeralda walked into her apartment and found the elf and moonly there. The two of them were wiped out from all the things they had been doing and were resting. The elf was sleeping on a rocking chair and moonly on a little mattress behind him on the floor.
Esmeralda was swept with feelings of tenderness and love when she saw the sleeping elf, and she covered him up with a blanket. He woke up and told her he didn’t know if she would be able to visit him as often as she had been because there were so many people waiting to pay him a visit.
135 “It’s O.K. elf, don’t worry about it. Everything is O.K. now!” she told him, caressing the top of his head. Moonly cracked open an eye looking to see what was happening. Esmeralda got self-conscious for a moment but realized it was O.K. to love him; everything was O.K.! The following day the mermaid rejoiced in the bottom of the ocean. “I’m so happy for you Esmeralda! It’s coming! Something spiritual, this feeling that you’re O.K. is coming! It happened just like that!” Yearning for body freedom
Two weeks later Esmeralda was out dancing with some friends and was mesmerized by two women dancing together. The way their bodies wrapped around each other was so beautiful as they moved so sensually together. She wondered if there would ever come a time when she would experience such freedom in her body. Death
One night about a month later, she was in her homeland taking care of a friend who had AIDS. They lay down hugging each other. Esmeralda felt his erect penis on her thigh and freaked out. She didn’t want to make love with him, but she didn’t say anything and decided to go along. He came inside her and she started moving her body, which was new for her! As she moved her body she got turned on, but he came quickly. Suddenly she remembered he had AIDS and freaked out. She run to the bathroom to wash herself but knew it was too late. She was stunned. She couldn’t believe he had done that to her; she loved him. “I love you too,” he said, reading her mind. “Sit down and listen to me. I gave you AIDS on purpose. You need it!”
As soon as dawn came Esmeralda sent the pigeon to find the dolphin to notify the mermaid of what had happened. After a few hours the pigeon came back with a little note. It read, “Esmeralda, congratulations on being on the path, the only path, the path to death! I look forward to walking down the path with you.”
When she told the elf about this a few days later, he had her imagine her death. She lay down and died and became her spirit roaming free. Esmeralda felt she was the wind blowing, shaking up things. “What would you shake?” the elf asked her. “ME!” said Esmeralda and started crying. “No, no!” said the elf “Don’t come back yet, stay there being the whirling wind that shakes things up! Stay there and look at yourself from up there!”
Esmeralda shapeshifted back into the wind and whirled around blowing on the trees. “Here she is!” said the elf, showing her a big bush. “Here’s Esmeralda, what do you want to tell her?” “Come on! Come on!” Esmeralda said blowing on the bush, making it shake from its roots, “You’re free! Don’t be so serious! Lighten up!”
136 “That’s it! You take things too seriously, think about them and try to work on them. You forget the larger perspective, keep yourself confined! Love both parts of you, it’s time they know each other more.” said the elf.
“Welcome to your death!” he shouted to her as she was heading back. Experiencing body freedom
Two weeks later Esmeralda dove into the ocean and swam over to the mermaid’s cave. There were two spots on her back that hurt a lot. When the mermaid pressed on them Esmeralda could breathe more deeply. The mermaid pressed, then sat, and finally lay on top of her. Esmeralda liked the sensation of the mermaid’s body on hers, the weight, the feeling of the two bodies touching. The two of them started moving their bodies together and Esmeralda felt free. She loved moving, feeling her body, breathing deeply.
Stopping internal abuse
Three months later Esmeralda and the elf were in the mountains together. The elf was standing outside their little cabin looking toward the mountains and Esmeralda was standing behind him with her arms wrapped around him. He was so thin that her arms wrapped all the way around him. The elf had his hands wrapped around her back and was moving his finger up and down her butt ever so softly; it was very sensual. She was thinking, “He’s in his own world! He thinks I’m his partner!” She moved once to interrupt the touch, stop the excitement building in her body, but he went on. She enjoyed the warmth and intimacy. Then it started raining and she pulled him out of the rain, for he was still totally absorbed in his own world. She wondered how he could be so totally in his own world while relating to her at the same time.
The next day Esmeralda dove into the ocean looking frantically for the mermaid. She was really upset. “Mermaid!” Esmeralda cried out as soon as she saw her “Mermaid, anything that has to do with sex puts me in a trance! I just go.” “Just go then, Esmeralda,” said the mermaid. “Wherever it is that you go, just go!” Given permission, Esmeralda allowed herself to go. She realized where she was going was inside. Going closed out the outside world so completely that nothing existed any longer. It was just her and her inner life. No more complexities; things were safe there in her own world.
Suddenly she remembered the experience she had the night before with the elf. This was the state he had been in. She wanted to tell the mermaid all about her experience but couldn’t get herself to talk about the sexual interaction. The moment she tried to share, she got scared and felt her insides crunch up. The mermaid helped her stay with her fear and feel it, to fight against the voice inside her head that told her she was no good because she had all these barriers to her sexuality. She helped her respect and befriend her fear.
137 Esmeralda felt so relieved as she swam back to the surface. Something had changed in her body and she could breathe. The mermaid had noticed the abuse happening in the moment and stopped it. She had helped her respect her fear, stop seeing it as a sign of pathology.
Waking up to vengeance
She hadn’t seen the elf for a few months and was anxious because she had something to tell him that was scary for her to say. The last time she had seen him had been in a public forum where the issue of sexism had come up. She had said something to him about how she thought he was being sexist in the moment without getting much response from him.
Esmeralda found the elf in his cabin sitting in front of the fireplace. With her heart pounding, she told him she couldn’t trust him because she wasn’t sure he was being straight with her.
“What happened in that public forum we were in a few months ago?” she asked him. “I felt you were annoyed by me but didn’t tell me.” “It’s true,” said the elf. “I felt you come out and gave me a kick in the balls!” Esmeralda was shocked to hear that. She remembered that she had gotten angry, feeling he was taking up space, but she was totally unaware that the way she had come out was mean and nasty. She didn’t know she had hurt him.
She was really sad about that. She loved the elf; she didn’t want to hurt him. This was a first awakening; it would take her another year to really see how she was both the victim and the perpetrator.
It was a big healing for her to experience a relationship like this. She had been worried about bringing out her mistrust, but it had deepened their relationship and brought even more intimacy, trust, and safety.
Caring for the whole
Two weeks later she was invited to an African American church. A woman had done something wrong and was standing in the back of the room. A man was behind her who was going to whip her. The woman took off her robe gracefully, letting it slip from her shoulders, and went through a door to her whipping with the man following her. She totally accepted her fate. Meanwhile, the other people got ready to start singing. A woman who was leading the ceremony turned on a tape recorder with loud music. Esmeralda thought to herself that they had turned the volume up so they wouldn’t hear the woman screaming. She felt she had to talk; she couldn’t just sit there and sing while this woman was being whipped. This was abuse.
138 She tried to get up, but it was hard to move. The room was spinning. Going from side to side, she finally reached the back of the room and hit the pause button on the tape recorder, but before she had a chance to speak, the woman leading the scene looked at her and Esmeralda understood she was wrong. She had no right to do this. It was totally disrespectful and racist. Who did she think she was? She had been invited there and shouldn’t have interrupted their ritual. She was wrong no matter what they were doing to that woman. She knew she had to leave. She asked the woman if she got a second chance, but knew the answer was no. The door was open and they were showing her out.
Then she was in a small village in her homeland. People were sitting outside their houses, and a bunch of teenagers were hanging out in a corner. She realized that these were all the kids she had known when they were young. They had grown up and were hanging out the way she used to do when she was their age. A guy came up to her and put his arms around her, asking her to recognize him. She couldn’t. He introduced himself but kept holding her tightly. She could tell his intentions were sexual and she didn’t like it. She started freaking out that he wouldn’t let her go and shifted realities from the agony.
When Esmeralda told the elf about this experience, he asked her why she thought the woman was being whipped. “What do you think the African-American community won’t tolerate?” “Turning your back on your community. Forgetting where you came from and carrying on just for yourself,” replied Esmeralda.
“This is your inner whipping that you need to listen to,” said the elf. “Something inside you wants you to care for the whole. You are important, your views are important, but you shouldn’t just go for yourself. You have to take care of your whole community. Part of your task is to help your community in your homeland wake up while holding it together at the same time.”
Esmeralda felt relieved and deeply touched. She knew she had a long way to go before she was ready.
Essence of being
At the beginning of spring Esmeralda set off to pay another visit to the elf. Three months had passed since their last encounter. The forest was beautiful with wildflowers growing everywhere and full of life with all the animals and spirits that lived in it. She felt her heart skip a beat as she approached his cabin. The elf opened the door and greeted her warmly with a big hug. It was such a beautiful day that they found a spot outside and sat on the ground. Esmeralda took the elf’s hands in her hands and remained quiet.
They sat in silence until she remembered all the things she was planning to tell him when she was walking through the forest. “I had so many things to tell you,” she said, “but I just love sitting here with you like this.” “You have already told me
139 so much in your silence, Esmeralda,” replied the elf. “You told me about silence, and about going into deep feeling states.” Esmeralda’s eyes filled with tears. “I saw that in you the first time I met you,” continued the elf. “You should just sit with people in silence. Whatever needs to happen will come through you.”
Sitting there Esmeralda remembered a childhood experience. “I was really young, I think, and my grandma had taken me to church to take communion for the first time. I was so scared walking up the aisle towards the priest and then suddenly, as I took that sip of wine my whole world changed! I felt exhilarated, light, ecstatic!” she said.
“God came through you,” the elf told her. “You connect with god in people. You have this silence, this god experience, and you have a great analytic, linear mind as well. You have both this time around!”
Esmeralda left feeling deeply connected with the elf. Through him she was starting to connect with something deep inside, which she felt was the core, the essence, of her being. He made her so happy!
Tight attitudes
A week later one night Esmeralda was walking down a street in the neighborhood she grew up in when she noticed there were two workers outside her house working on the sidewalk. Suddenly she realized that her dress was way too tight and her belly was hanging out. She got very self-conscious thinking about her tight dress and those men watching her. Once inside she started thinking to herself that her dress must have shrunk when she washed it or she must have gotten fatter. Her bra was very tight too. Her breasts were way too big to fit in that bra. The pressure on her chest was enormous; she could hardly breathe and the straps were pulling down so much they were cutting into her shoulders. She took it off and felt a huge relief, but she was left feeling she’d gotten fat again, too fat.
The next day Esmeralda dove into the ocean to see if the mermaid was back. She had left following a pack of gray whales up North and Esmeralda had missed her so much. She found her swimming in the midst of thousands of little sea horses that had stopped to pay her a visit. What a sight that was.
“Your attitude, the way you feel about yourself is too tight. You’re taking it off!” said the mermaid as soon as she heard Esmeralda’s experience. “While I was visiting up North I noticed a full figured woman wearing a tight, sexy, black dress and I thought of you. I thought to myself that I’m not supporting you enough because of my own hang ups with the western idea of the ideal woman.”
Hearing her Esmeralda thought of the black body suit she had been wanting to wear lately but never had, feeling her breasts were too big and would show too
140 much. The mermaid was right, she was too uptight! Her attitude towards herself needed to change.
Freaking out
The following week Esmeralda was suffering from brutal inner attacks. She put on her sweater and headed for the forest. She had come out with her opinions in a public forum and now agonized over whether every word she had said was right or wrong. She was driving herself crazy!
She found the elf chopping wood and sat down on a big log next to him. Esmeralda told him all about the inner attacks and then remembered a weird experience she had had the night before.
“I was in my homeland with my dog and she had two huge cuts on both sides of her belly. The doctor told me she was pregnant and he couldn’t sew her up before she gave birth. Then I saw three puppies in her belly hanging from their cords. Two of them just walked out giving birth to themselves, and the third, which was hanging dead from its cord just dropped to the ground. When I saw this I thought to myself, “Good, just get out of there!”
“You’re giving birth to yourself, Esmeralda!” exclaimed the elf. Her mind went to the poster hanging over her bed, with a picture of a woman kneeling, and words that read, “I am a woman giving birth to myself”. As she looked up to tell him, she saw him sitting in that same position! She took that position herself and the elf came around and hugged her. “You don’t have to come out, I’ll come in there with you,” he told her.
Hearing this, Esmeralda broke into tears. “I’ve been afraid ever since I can remember. I thought I was born afraid, but I recently saw a baby picture of myself and I didn’t look scared at all!”
“You’re giving birth to yourself. You’re coming out into the world and you’re panicking!” the elf told her. “You’re a wandering swami! You don’t belong anywhere. You wander around and blurt out whatever you have to say. I love being with you; you’re real. You may be in an altered state for others but for me you’re really here!”
Esmeralda walked back through the forest feeling calm and at peace with herself.
Breaking free from the struggle
141 Two weeks later Esmeralda found herself trying to climb a vertical wall one night. She had almost reached the top where some of her teachers were standing when one of them extended his hand to pull her up. She didn’t want to be pulled up; she wanted to do it herself, so she caught onto the edge with her hands and pulled her body up. It felt so good to have pulled herself up!
The next day she headed for forest. She was worrying about her lungs and wanted to stop smoking. She found the elf sitting outside his door and sat down next to him, sharing her worries about smoking. “When do you smoke, Esmeralda?” asked the elf. “When I need a break,” she replied.
The elf asked her to tell him her latest night experience. After he heard about her climbing adventure, he told her, “Smoking gives you a break from all the struggling with self-criticism. You’re climbing a high wall recognizing your own value. When you get there you will have the detachment smoking gives you now. Until then you have to do it mechanically. Use that same strength you used to pull yourself up that wall and quit cold turkey.”
Organic change
One night during the following week Esmeralda was in the forest feeling panicky and claustrophobic. She had to go through a narrow opening that was high above one of the trees. It was too small for her to go through. Suddenly, as she had her back against the tree, she felt it becoming part of her, entering her through her back. Her shape was changing into something fluid that could fit through that opening. The whole atmosphere changed. She felt safe and secure. She knew that with the help of the tree she would get through this narrow hole.
When she heard about this shapeshifting, the mermaid asked Esmeralda to go even further with it in her imagination. Esmeralda then saw herself going through the opening and becoming an eagle soaring high above, in the sky.
“Your process is becoming organic, Esmeralda,” said the mermaid. “The struggle is no longer mechanical. You’re not climbing a wall anymore; you’re becoming a tree, slipping through constrictions! You’re no longer in a fight with your critic. You’re just slipping through, reaching the sky, becoming the eagle that has a wider view of things.”
142 Shifting assemblage point
Three months later Esmeralda was playing at a children’s playground, trying to hang from a horizontal bar, but the minute she put her weight on her hands she realized they weren’t strong enough to hold her and she let go of the bar and fell flat on her back. Later on that week, she walked upstream and found the elf sitting underneath a waterfall in the forest. She sat on a little ledge next to him and told him about her accident. The strongest experience for her was letting her hands slip under the weight of her body, so the elf asked her to let go.
Esmeralda lay on her back and breathed deeply. After a while the elf asked her what she was letting go of and sadness came over her. She felt it was something heavy. “This morning in class when everyone was talking theoretically I wasn’t able to take part in the discussion. It was going to fast for me. I’m too slow,” she finally said, breaking into tears.
The elf started playing the figure inside her head that was criticizing her. At some point Esmeralda started laughing. The elf swiftly caught the switch! “I’ll be you Esmeralda. You be this critical figure and just keep going,” he told her. “Just let it talk even if it is to say the same thing! I’m going to let go here and listen.”
“You’re dumb, you’re too slow, you can’t think!” Esmeralda said and started laughing again. “Actually, that’s not true!” she continued. “It’s not that you can’t think, it’s that you don’t spend enough time thinking! You haven’t sat down to focus on your paper, you don’t make the time to do that.”
“I have to admit this voice is right!” she then said to the elf. “It’s a shift in your assemblage point to give yourself time to think, Esmeralda. Your thinking is beyond what you identify as being you; it’s being occupied by your critic. It’s time to make space for your thinking, Esmeralda!”
Glimpses into the future
Two weeks later one night a man raped Esmeralda in her homeland.
The next day she visited the mountain pixie whom she hadn’t seen for some time now. “What comes to your mind when you think of this man?” asked the mountain pixie when he heard the story of the rape. “He feels like the world belongs to him! He just takes what he wants!” she said.
“You have to push yourself over your edges towards your freedom Esmeralda,” the mountain pixie said. It’s a political act of liberation. It’s worldwork; it’s not personal growth. You’re depressed from having been in a one-down position all your life. Your process is being the man who rapes you, the one who feels the world belongs to her, who takes what she wants! When you get to the edge you
143 feel tired. You have to push yourself to go out, to speak up in a group, to sing in public, to be you, the ecstatic you that you are. You have to push yourself to get into the self-discipline that’s needed to reach the physical condition that will make you feel good about yourself. You don’t have to lose weight because of sexism but in spite of it!”
Esmeralda left feeling it was time to leave her “homeland” behind, let go of all the weight that was keeping her down.
Stealing happiness
The following week Esmeralda was gathering wood in the forest when she bumped into the elf! He hugged her and sat down on a log for a quick chat. She told him about the urge to steal that had come over her suddenly the other day!
“How are you feeling these days Esmeralda?” asked the elf. Esmeralda broke into tears feeling all the sadness that was way beneath rising to the surface. “I just had a vision of you being ecstatically happy!” said the elf wiping her tears away. “I’m going to come with you and help you steal the happiness that has been forbidden to you for some strange reason.”
That put a huge smile on Esmeralda’s face and she hugged him, feeling very grateful to have him in her life.
Self-hatred, self-love
It was a cold winter day when the mermaid and Esmeralda found themselves swimming in deep water, face to face with the dreadful creature that was still tyrannizing Esmeralda and making her feel she was not worth loving with statements like, “You’re no good, you’re messed up around your sexuality, you’re too fat, no one will ever love you, you will always be alone.” Together the two of them grappled with the seemingly endless tentacles of this sea creature.
Esmeralda couldn’t believe that after so many years this creature still appeared whenever she felt even the slightest form of rejection. However, she could feel that things were changing slowly, for there was also love fighting off this creature: it no longer had free reign.
Love heals
It was New Year’s day when the pigeon brought Esmeralda a message from the elf that warmed her heart and put a big smile on her face. She loved him so much. “His love is the most healing experience in my life,” she thought to herself.
Coming out
144 Two weeks later one night Esmeralda’s mother and father came all the way from their homeland to pay her a visit. They lay on her bed and told her that the medication that her father had been taking had healed his penis and they were really enjoying each other and having fun. Then Esmeralda noticed her mom’s tummy and realized she was pregnant. She asked her mother if she wanted the phone number of a woman doctor who could help her have an abortion. Her mother and father started having an argument and Esmeralda went on her dad’s side to defend him, but he told her he didn’t need her anymore that he could stand for himself.
“Your inner father is healing and can stand for himself now,” said the elf when he saw her a few days later. “It’s not about giving birth, having results, working things out in relationships. It’s about saying things instinctively when they come up! It’s about being extroverted! It’s about coming out!” The next day, struggling to speak through her tears, she presented her idea about her thesis to the earth fairy. She wanted to write about the connection between being put down and feeling bad about herself, about sexism in the culture she came from. The earth fairy encouraged her to start writing the scenes she remembered, the stories from her past. “The thread to continue will come from there. Just start writing what you remember.”
Opening up to her power
A month later Esmeralda had just had a difficult encounter with the mountain pixie. He was late and she had gotten irritated waiting for him. It had made her feel insignificant and unimportant, but as soon as she saw him she put that feeling aside, not daring to tell him, and without noticing what she had done. She attributed her discomfort to a lack of connection and tried to make contact, but of course that didn’t work! He sensed the conflict and brought it out.
Her irritation was slipping out in her not following anything he suggested, which irritated him. He got very serious and asked her why she went to see him and what she wanted from him. “I want you to follow me and help me go deeper,” she said but this irritated him even more. “You want me to be your servant, your shoe shiner. I won’t do it!” he said. “You’re not humble enough to follow your signals. You don’t want to follow your process.”
She felt anything she said got turned against her. He was right and she was wrong. She felt trapped and psychologized by a “right” way that he only had, which she reacted to strongly. Any feeling of love and connection between them was gone. She felt the ground slip beneath her feet. She panicked and had difficulty breathing.
The mountain pixie noticed her panic and came over to her side. He helped her regain her composure, find her strength, and stand her ground with him. He was tough with her while helping her be tough back! In the end she told him she
145 wanted him to have cared for her more when she lost it, and the pixie told her she should think if it was still right for her to be seeing him. “I want you to identify more with your power.” he said as she was getting ready to leave. “You only see yourself as a victim of others but look at how powerful you are! You just criticized me in the last five minutes we have together!”
The moment of panic was such a strong physical experience it stayed with her. “I’m such a love freak!” she thought to herself. “I think the world will come to an end if someone stops loving me but of course it doesn’t! I think the other one is going to desert me and I’m going to dissolve, but I don’t. I was able to pull myself together and stand my ground. Perhaps fearing I would lose him was what kept me from bringing out my irritation in the first place.” She felt relieved he had helped her do that. She needed his toughness to help her feel her own.
Getting her oomph back
The following night Esmeralda went into a room and saw her mother standing next to her father’s body, which was wrapped in white sheets. He had been dead but was now alive! She started unraveling the sheets with her mother. They were wet and had a smell of decay. Esmeralda took a sponge and started washing his body with water and soap.
She washed his chest and his belly and reached his genital area. She hesitated for a minute thinking, “Will I wash his penis too?” but then decided she would. She took his penis, which was already erect, in her hand and started washing it. “This isn’t ethical,” she thought but had a strong feeling that there was something right about what she doing. He turned around and said to her mother, “See how big and full of blood it is?” As she was washing him Esmeralda started helping him masturbate, and he started moving his pelvis back and forth, making thrusting movements and being proud of himself.
Then a stranger came in the room and brought with him a little girl who looked exactly like Esmeralda when she was young. The little girl had been abandoned; her clothes were old and dirty and no one was looking after her. Esmeralda picked her up and held her in her arms, thinking, “I’m going to look after her, she’s mine.” It felt good to be holding her continuation in her arms. “My clothes stink and I need a bath,” said the little one in a matter-of-fact voice. Esmeralda thought, “She doesn’t feel sorry for herself! She’s a strong kid; she’ll be all right! I’m going to wash her clothes and take care of her.”
The next day Esmeralda set off for the forest to look for the elf. She found him hanging from his favorite branch and climbed up to join him. Once she settled down, she talked to the elf about something he had done a few weeks ago that had hurt her and then shared with him her experience of her father coming back
146 from the land of the dead. “Your ‘oomph’ is coming back!” the elf exclaimed. “You just brought your father back to life with me, hooray!”
Esmeralda walked back through the forest, amazed at the elf’s ability to weave different realities together.
Making love
A week later one night Esmeralda entered a room and saw a naked woman sitting on a bed. She went over, lay on top of her and started kissing her breasts, getting turned on. The woman told her to do it again only slower this time. She moved her mouth over the woman’s breasts, kissing them softly and started moving her pelvis back and forth until something in her got satisfied.
Discovering her worm-like nature
The following day Esmeralda went to the coast to spend a week with the elf and moonly and a small group of people. She had wanted to go on a vision quest for some time now, so the opportunity to spend a week focusing exclusively on her inner life was greatly treasured.
She closed her eyes and asked the universe what wanted to develop in her; as she opened them a huge chain from an anchor of a ship caught her attention. The first thought that came to her mind was prison, captivity, slaves. The second was a worm!
The elf asked her how the worm moves and she started crawling on the ground slowly until she reached moonly and stopped. Moonly joined her and they crawled together on the ground for a while. There was something very sensual in the way the worm moved slowly, feeling its body, and also playful. It made contact and then retreated and then came back again for more! The worm was just being. It wasn’t thinking about what was right or wrong; it just followed its body. “You have a worm-like nature!” said the elf. “You need to allow yourself to make relationships from there, crawl your way in and out!”
Later on that evening she was working with three other people on an exercise about a change they dreamed of bringing to the world but didn’t dare to! She was thinking about how she could address sexism in her homeland without threatening and making people defensive. They had very little time left and she was feeling stuck in her usual reaction, which was an impulse to go for the man’s throat, when moonly came around and told her to remember her worm nature.
Suddenly Esmeralda jumped into her “opponent’s” lap and sat there hugging him, telling him she loved him and he just had to change. She knew the words didn’t really matter, because jumping on his lap had changed the whole atmosphere,
147 They were all laughing when the elf appeared. “We forget how big a role love plays! There’s just one way for you to go Esmeralda. You have to smooch them into changing!” he said.
Esmeralda felt relieved. It had been so easy after moonly reminded her to bring in her worm-like nature. Before that she was just stuck in her anger and hopelessness! On a Vision Quest
A few days later Esmeralda was discussing sexism with a male friend of hers from her homeland who had unexpectedly appeared. They were sitting on a big boulder on the top of a mountain overlooking the ocean. It was a bright sunny day on the coast. He was trying to explain to Esmeralda that her personal issues were connected with the whole culture’s issues. “That’s hard,” he said, “but it is your fate somehow!” Esmeralda couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell her,so he told her a story. “Once upon a time,” he said, “there was a man who lived in his village. The whole village threw their sewage in the river instead of the fields and so they all ended up drinking dirty water and getting sick. This man left and went up to the mountains, becoming a hermit to heal himself. Then he went back to his village and showed them how to do things differently. You’re still healing yourself Esmeralda. Just be here, indulge! You’re blessed. Not many people find the healing spirits they need on their path.”
Esmeralda was deeply touched by his words. She felt something open up inside allowing her to experience how blessed she really felt. She had been extremely shy to feel it for there was something in the background saying, “What did I do to deserve all this blessing that came into my life?”
“Do you have an animal ally?” her friend asked her. “I think it’s the eagle,” said Esmeralda. Just as the words came out of her mouth an eagle appeared right in front of her. Never before had she seen an eagle so close! It was magical.
The eagle had come up from the cliff below them and started circling right above their heads clockwise. “This is an omen,” said her friend as the eagle kept flying above their heads, spiraling upwards until it was high in the sky. “Prepare to soar high,” he said as the eagle flew off towards the left. “Your path has something to do with the collective and it’s not going to be easy.”
Then from their right appeared a second eagle that started circling above their heads counterclockwise. “It’s about personal growth as well,” her friend then said, “and this will be easy!” The eagle kept spiraling upwards and then screeched twice before it left in the direction of other eagle. “The omen is good, the eagle spoke to you twice.”
Then, as she turned her head towards the ocean she saw four whales breaching close to the shore. She had never seen whales so close before. Esmeralda was
148 in awe. She felt the universe confirming that she was on the right path. She had thought the vision would come to her in seclusion, but it came through her friend. The universe worked in mysterious ways.
That night she sang for a small group of people. It was the first time she heard her voice come out loud and clear.
In a crisis around flirting
A few days later Esmeralda was in such a struggle inside it was difficult for her to breathe. She had been feeling flirtatious and trying to keep her feelings hidden because flirting with that person would have been crossing the line that consensus reality puts between different ranks and roles. Then one day that person told her he could easily flirt with her.
She was ecstatic and blown away by his freedom to share that with her and on the spur of the moment told him so but afterward she started freaking out about it feeling she had done something terribly wrong! She tried to sort things out internally, discover what was cutting her breath short.
One part had to do with feeling bad for “crossing the line” with her feelings; she shouldn’t be feeling flirtatious towards that person. Another had to do with doubting her experience of him flirting with her thinking she had misinterpreted his words and signals for it just couldn’t be, he would never “cross the line”. Yet another had to do with thinking she was too immature and messed up for him to ever be interested in her in that way. “But what really blew me away was his freedom to tell me he could flirt with me” she thought to herself and started exploring what stopped her from being flirtatious.
The first thing that came to her mind was a moral figure saying, “Decent girls don’t flirt, they aren’t sensual and sexual.” She thought of her family’s Christian morality, which was the morality of the culture she grew up in, that wanted women to be without sexual feelings and needs, that thought of lust, horniness and sexual pleasure as being only for men and whores. “These ethics have become part of me! It’s no longer ‘them’, it’s me!” Esmeralda thought to herself.
Then she thought of all the magazines and movies that portray women as liberated, sensual, sexual beings, fully inhabiting their bodies, celebrating and enjoying their sexuality without being in a complex about it. This view saw women who are not able to be all that as having a problem, as being messed up. “That’s inside of me too, damn it!” Esmeralda thought.
“It’s so complicated! How will I ever free myself from my upbringing, my personal history, beliefs and cultural values? Will I ever be free to be the ecstatic being I really am?” She went to bed exhausted from trying to figure things out, hoping the night would show her the way.
149
That night, she was in a room with moonly and the elf. Moonly was telling her how great she had been in the group process that had just finished, how she had done something moonly wasn’t able to do yet herself. The elf wanted something she had on her computer, which she was about to print out for him. They were both appreciating her and telling her how many things she knows and does. She felt so good about her herself and was very happy. Then she was walking home and three dogs were following her. They had nowhere to go, so she decided to take care of them, although she thought three dogs were a little too much. One of them, the brown bulldog, was especially ugly. As soon as the dogs came inside her house, the bulldog started peeing all over the place, marking its territory. A little bit got on Esmeralda, who was disgusted but also understood it was a natural thing for the dog to do.
Esmeralda met up with Broomhilda and together they went to the nixie who was helping them learn to work with one another. Esmeralda stayed silent for quite some time in the beginning before she started talking to Broomhilda. She told her she had been working on her sensuality lately and shared the night’s experiences with her. Broomhilda asked her to relax and think of her wildest sexual fantasy! Esmeralda lay on the ground and tried but could hardly do it. After a while started feeling embarrassed and fucked-up.
The nixie came over and started stroking and appreciating Esmeralda. “Just being, lying there, is beautiful. Hardly being able to have a fantasy, how painful,” she said and Esmeralda broke into tears. “Being sensual is just being, lying there appreciating yourself in contrast to pushing yourself to have a sexual fantasy. Sensuality is a way of being that includes the mind; last night the elf was supporting your computer,” the nixie told her. “You marked your turf when you came in today, taking your time before opening up, making sure you felt comfortable with us before you started talking. What you’re working on is a group process, a worldwork issue, it’s not only a personal one.”
Later that day Esmeralda thought of her worm-like nature that had appeared during her vision quest a few weeks ago and of the urge to soak in the bathtub that had come over her these last ten days. Her proprioception was asking for her attention!
The rebirth of dreaming & her femininity
Three weeks later one night Esmeralda was in her homeland driving a small motorcycle. Her friend who had AIDS was sitting in the back seat. The two of them were on their way to find his friends. When they got to where they were supposed to turn the road was closed off by police cars with flashing red and blue lights. Esmeralda saw a piece of human flesh lying on the road. Somehow she knew it was the clitoris of a woman. She heard one of the cops say, “What was she doing out in the streets at 2 o’clock in the morning?” According to him it
150 was the woman’s fault that she had gotten killed; she shouldn’t have been out in the street so late at night. Esmeralda thought to herself, “It’s two o’clock now and I’m a woman, I better not stop here.” Then she heard the other cop say, “It’s our fault.” According to him, sexism, this whole atmosphere against women, was their fault too. They were responsible. It relieved her to hear him say that. Esmeralda and her friend left the scene.
Then Esmeralda was with a woman who was giving birth from her mouth. She saw the babies’ heads emerging first and then their bodies, just like in a regular birth. Then the woman turned around and a third one came out from the back of her neck, and a fourth one as well. The woman took the fourth one and gave it to Esmeralda, telling her they were too many for her to take care of. Esmeralda held it, thinking that although she hadn’t given birth to it, it needed her, so this would be her baby now.
Two weeks later one night her mother and father paid her a visit again. Her father came out of the car walking. He was shaved and looked so young, like he was in his thirties. He walked with her up a hill to get to the house they were going to stay in for a few days. He still wobbled, but he was walking and was proudly showing off.
Her mother was wearing a white body suit with lace around the neck. The body suit was tight around her body; it highlighted all her curves. Seeing her from behind, Esmeralda thought to herself, “Mom is really sexy!” Then as her mother turned to the side Esmeralda saw she had a round belly. “That’s good!” she thought to herself. “She can enjoy herself! She doesn’t need to have a flat belly, it can be round and big! It looks like they’re really living. Dad seems so renewed and mom is old but so sensual and sexy. The two of them are having a good time.” She was very happy for them.
A week later Esmeralda suddenly got a high fever that wouldn’t respond to any medication she took. She burned, day and night, for 72 hours. When the fever resided and she felt a little stronger Esmeralda set out for the forest. She couldn’t wait to find the elf. It had been so long since she had last seen him and she had so many things to tell him.
She was so impatient she couldn’t decide where to look for him first and stopped for a second to ask the rabbit if it had seen him. As she was about to take a peek inside the rabbit’s hole she felt a tap on her right shoulder! She turned around and found herself face to face with the elf. Oh, was she glad to see him!
She grabbed him and started telling him about the fever. It reminded her of an experience she used to have when she was very young, a hallucination brought on by high fever.
151 She was suspended in outer space, seeing thousands of stars around her, feeling so minutely, infinitely small, a speck of star dust in the midst of all that vastness, and she had to hold the whole universe on the tips of her fingers. She remembered the agony, the physical sensation of the impossibility of it all. “I’m too small, I can’t possibly do it!” she thought to herself and yet, for split seconds, she had everything balancing on the tips of her fingers! Ecstasy! And then again agony, the agony of being so tiny. It was very hard to describe the body sensation of that experience. Coming out of that state she saw the trees outside her window moving. They were alive, dark shadows, spirits moving. They freaked her out! She couldn’t sense what they wanted; they seemed menacing to her. Her mother got angry with her, or at least that’s how it felt to Esmeralda then. Perhaps her mother was terrified of the high fever and the altered state it produced, and was just trying to bring her back. In any case, Esmeralda could never understand why her mother got mad at her, for she never lied about the trees; they were alive and moving!
Hearing this story, the elf asked her to pretend that she was delirious, like when she was young. “Go ahead, look at the branches that caught your attention as we sat down and hallucinate!” he told her. She looked at the branches and imagined them as spirits alive in the forest. After a lot of encouragement from the elf, she was able to make the sounds she imagined them making.
“What’s stopping you from doing that, Esmeralda?” asked the elf. “I feel embarrassed and stupid even with you who lives so much in this world,” she said. Then she told him about the experiences she had seeing the woman’s clitoris on the road and the woman giving birth from her mouth and neck. “You must have somehow been cut off from your dreaming and your feminine side,” said the elf.
Esmeralda thought of all the memories she had been writing down lately for her paper and thought that was true. She remembered how she used to daydream when she was a teenager and how her mother had forbidden her to do so , so as not to escape reality. The elf asked her what she was daydreaming about at that time and Esmeralda felt shy to tell him. “I was making up elaborate stories of being with the guy I was in love with!” she finally said.
“Everything you do, including lying and dreaming is real,” said the elf. “If you can fantasize something then it has to be true. The biggest lie you can tell about yourself is that you’re dreaming and in a way that’s the absolute truth! Dreaming and wishing are very important, that’s how you bring things into your life. You’ve been cut off from your dreaming; this is what’s getting born again now. Babies were coming out of the mouth and the neck! You must have things to bring out verbally, but also in other weird, non-conventional ways!”
The elf asked her what she had been wishing for when she had the fever recently and she told him she had been feeling very sad and wished her mother, her
152 sister and he were there. “That’s a smart woman!” exclaimed the elf. “You wanted to have the people who love you there with you!”
Esmeralda grew silent and the elf asked her what she was thinking. “I’m just feeling the need to be quiet, to see if there’s something else that wants to come out,” she replied. The elf encouraged her to do that and Esmeralda went inside for a while and noticed tension in her hands. “Dream into the tension,” said the elf. “Imagine why someone like you would be tense in this moment.”
She got up from where she was sitting and looked at the spot that was now empty. “Time is so short,” she said, “and she hasn’t seen you for such a long time.” The elf jumped to her side, hugged her warmly and started telling her how important she was to him.
Esmeralda then told him that the days she was sick she had had an impulse to contact him and ask him to send her a message with the pigeon saying that he loved her, but had stopped herself by thinking this was stupid.
“That’s the murder!” exclaimed the elf. “That’s the one cutting up the woman on the street. Don’t kill your dreaming, your impulses, your yearning, your wishes. Let them live! Your fever was trying to get you back into dreaming. Your dreaming is all about relationships, getting close, smooching. It’s beautiful, don’t kill it. You have a power in dreaming.”
She felt so grateful to him for having jumped into her dreaming and dreaming along with her. It was a very healing experience.
The appearance of ET
The following night Esmeralda was standing on the balcony of her apartment in her homeland. She knew other people had made contact with extraterrestrial beings; they had just called out to them and the ETs had responded. “Inonu! Inonu!” she cried out into the starry night without thinking too much about it. That was the way one called them! Within seconds she saw their spaceship, a long handle swirling in the night sky, approaching.
“Oh no! Don’t come! I didn’t really mean it!” she thought to herself the minute she saw the spaceship, but one of them was already standing right there next to her on the balcony.
She was scared but she knew there was no turning back now; she had called for them and they had come. The ETs were always there but never appeared unless you called out for them; they never invaded your space.
The ET who was now standing next to her had taken the form of a Native American man. He had red skin and long black hair. “Oh! You’re taking the form
153 of something that is familiar to me so as not to scare me and so that I can understand you,” Esmeralda said to him. He was standing there, reading something to her, sharing with her the wisdom he had about the universe, about life and death.
Suddenly Esmeralda’s grandmother, mother and father came in the apartment. Esmeralda introduced them to the man without telling them that he was an extraterrestrial. Her grandmother shook his hand in a standoffish way, snubbing him because he was Native American.
The ET whispered in Esmeralda’s ear, “Grandma is a hard one, eh?” He wasn’t upset; he laughed at her snobbish attitude and her belief that she was better than he was. Esmeralda laughed with him. She had a detached view about it! She could see her grandma’s attitude but still loved her and could laugh about it because it seemed so nonsensical to her.
A lesbian affair
The following night Esmeralda was sitting in the living room with her mother and father. Her mother was having an affair with another woman and was writing a love letter to her. Her father, curious about what she was doing, tried to grab the letter from her but he wasn’t fast enough! Her mother asked Esmeralda to fax the letter to the woman from her computer so her father wouldn’t see it. Although Esmeralda felt good about the whole thing in the beginning and helped her mother, she then started feeling for her father.
Then she was outside in a square full of people and saw moonly coming towards her. A group of nuns moved back as she passed by, as if moonly was contaminated and would spread some sort of disease. Esmeralda grabbed moonly, took her in her lap, and stroked her, telling her not to pay attention to those women. The nuns had decided to ostracize moonly because she had committed adultery in their eyes. Esmeralda went and found the woman who had told the nuns to treat moonly that way and started screaming at her, “You think you’re better than moonly? You think the way you’re treating her is humane? Where are your feelings woman?” The woman looked at Esmeralda, stunned. She couldn’t stand for being right but she couldn’t come in touch with her feelings either. She was just numb.
Experiencing her body
As soon as the sun came up Esmeralda took the trail that led to the forest. She had so many things she wanted to share with the elf.
“Your body experience is organizing your dreaming,” the elf told her when she finished telling him her latest night encounters. “This is the connection that has
154 been cut off. Getting in touch with your body is a lesbian relationship. You’re having an affair with yourself, with your body.”
“What comes to your mind when you think of Native Americans?” he then asked her. “Being out in nature, walking in the park and saying good morning to the trees, the birds, the squirrels. Today, as I was running for the one minute that I can, I closed my eyes and focused on my body. I wanted to pay special attention to my body, to my rhythm. I felt this way I wouldn’t injure myself,” Esmeralda said.
“That’s very important. That’s experiencing your body through the ET —nature, weirdness—instead of through the eyes of patriarchy, which snubs the Native American,” said the elf. “When you go back to your homeland for a visit, keep walking. Don’t stop!”
Esmeralda thought what would stop her from walking in her homeland would be her fear of people watching and judging her body, making humiliating remarks, but she realized these people were inside her head as well!
Lately she had been feeling the struggle between two different ways of experiencing her body. One experience was the experience of being fat. She thought of her body as ugly, repulsive, and undesirable according to the ideal body portrayed by the media. The elf called this, the patriarch’s experience of her body. This was the experience she had identified with all her life and the one that came when she looked at herself in the mirror.
The other was a very new experience that slipped in for moments, which was a totally different experience of her body, and which made her euphoric!
She had recently started walking daily and going to the gym a few times a week. It had been difficult in the beginning because this brought up the patriarchal notion of beauty that was so deeply ingrained in her, but slowly, as her mobility increased, she started having a different experience of her body.
She loved moving, she loved getting stronger. Her weight hadn’t changed but she felt so much lighter! Running for 90 seconds made her feel so happy she shrieked with joy! From this perceptual viewpoint weight was not a problem. The elf called this, the ET’s experience. “It’s so important to walk for ET, and not for the patriarch!” the elf told her, and she knew that this was crucial.
“I have one last question!” the elf said. “What do you love about moonly?” “I’ve learned so much from her!” Esmeralda replied. “I love the way she teaches. I love the atmosphere she creates with her metaskill of all of us being learners together. She never comes at you from above.”
155 “That’s the most important point of all!” exclaimed the elf. “Moonly is the part of you that you should hold tight, and stroke, and love. She will get you out of your inferiority complex. No one is above you. You are equal to everyone.”
Trusting her inner wisdom
A month later Esmeralda climbed the mountainside looking for the mountain pixie. Several months had passed since that stormy last encounter of theirs. She found him sitting on his favorite ledge.
They tried to go into things, but it wasn’t really flowing and Esmeralda asked for a minute to focus on herself. She closed her eyes and started breathing deeply, feeling her body. She noticed her thumb stroking her finger and the agony she was feeling inside and told him about it.
“If I were you, after our last encounter I would be wondering if I want to continue to work with someone who isn’t following me, and I would be scared to break the relationship with exams coming up,” the mountain pixie told her. It wasn’t the exams that were troubling her as much as the uncertainty of what was really in the flow. She knew things weren’t flowing between them lately but she was wondering; is this was something to stick with and work through, or was it was time to stop?
She shared her dilemma with him and the mountain pixie asked her if there was a part in her body where wisdom was. Esmeralda noticed her somatic response to his question, which was to close her eyes and breathe more deeply. She felt a sense of relaxing and detaching. “It’s in my breath,” she said. “I had a flash of intuition that it was in your chest when I asked you,” the mountain pixie said.
Esmeralda breathed deeply and asked herself the question. The first thing that came to her was that it was over for the time being, but it was scary to trust herself and say that. The mountain pixie noticed her hesitation and asked her what was happening. “It’s hard to believe in my own wisdom and the answer I got,” she said. “What if it’s not right?”
He encouraged her to believe in herself and she told him that she felt it was time to stop seeing him. “What if I want to come back?” she then asked in a panic. “My door is always open,” he said, and she burst into tears. She was deeply touched by his response.
“What did you imagine I would say?” he asked her after a while. “The door is closed forever,” she said. “How would that make you feel?” he asked. “Devastated,” she said, “but I guess another part of me would...” “Keep on breathing,” he said, noticing the deep breath she took at the end of her
156 unfinished sentence. “Until I die,” she said. “And even after you die,” he said, and she knew it was true.
“This is a continuation of our last meeting,” said the mountain pixie. “What was coming out as bossiness then was the beginning of this inner wisdom that trusts the process and follows the flow. It’s very humble and flow-oriented.”
The mountain pixie hugged her warmly and gave her his blessings. She left crying, feeling this was a coming of age for her that her parents weren’t able to give her, believing and trusting in her inner wisdom.
Something was changing rapidly inside. Lately, in classes and supervision she felt like her mind had been freed. She was happy, which was strange, since nothing had changed outwardly in her life and yet everything had.
Rape
A week later Esmeralda was walking down a deserted street in her hometown at night when a car came along and started following her. There were two men in that car and she knew that one of them was going to rape her.
Wearing her beauty
The following day Esmeralda was sitting quietly on the ground across from the elf, holding his hands and feeling how much she loved him. Her love for him filled her up inside. After a while she shared with him what was going on inside her. “I love you so much that it scares me,” she said. “Lately I’ve been feeling that I don’t want to live too far away from you, but something inside thinks that’s sick, that I shouldn’t depend emotionally on you so much.”
“That is the rape Esmeralda. You rape yourself when you consider following your feelings, following your heart, to be sick,” the elf said. “Your homeland and men rape you a lot at night. How does your homeland rape you? Why don’t you want to go back?” he asked. “I can’t stand the sexism,” she replied. “What is sexism?” he asked. “It’s the attitudes men have towards you, the way they look at you, judging your body. The subtle ways they show their belief that they are better than you are. That place rapes me by not allowing me to be who I am.”
“The way you are is different than many people,” the elf told her. “You’re weird! You go deeply into your altered states, into your feelings, and that’s not supported. It’s all right to think rationally, just don’t rape your feelings with it. When you say to yourself that you have to be independent, that you can’t decide where you’re going to live depending on where the people you love are, you’re raping yourself. Thinking you have to be practical and make decisions rationally is the patriarchal system in you.”
157 “I stop myself in many ways,” Esmeralda said. “I’ve been wanting to wear this summer dress I love, but I don’t dare to wear it outside my house because it has a low cleavage line and I feel indecent...”
The minute she said that a scene from the previous night came to her mind. She was at a friend’s house in her hometown wearing that dress. “I can see two big breasts!” her friend had said. Then she was on the street and two friends of hers from high school appeared. She gave them a big hug and started playing volleyball with them amidst the people going by. The ball they were playing with was so huge and went so high that it bumped into stores, breaking things.
The elf asked her about those two friends, and she told him they used to hang out together when she was in high school. They came from working class families who were struggling to survive. The elf asked her if she thought working class people were freer about their cleavage lines, and she said she thought they were.
“You’re embracing working class and discovering your hugeness, which bumps into things and breaks them! Your beauty is your birthday present! Feel it and wear it! Show it! You feel you’re insignificant but when you stand, feel, and talk, you have an effect on people. Your wholeness is huge; you are an altered states’ person and you have rational thinking. Not all people are so huge. Any one thing is too limiting for you. Embrace all that you are. Be it! You hate any inhibitions. Stop holding back, like a “good” girl. Free yourself. Wear your beauty and sexuality! Follow your heart and be where you feel you want to be!”
Esmeralda left feeling so good inside, so beautiful, so happy; she was ecstatic!
The appearance of the worms
A week later one night, a male and a female worm appeared in front of Esmeralda. The male worm started to move, extending its head and the upper part of its body like a cobra in a dance. “This is a mating dance,” Esmeralda thought to herself, “It’s dancing to attract the female!” Then their bodies joined, intertwined at the bottom, while their upper bodies and heads leaned backwards. They were making love. The female was humming ecstatically. They were so beautiful. Suddenly the male exploded and burst into a thousand pieces as it came! A tiny squirt fell on Esmeralda’s hand, and then bits of it flew and stuck on her wrist. She could feel it stinging. She tried to get it off, but couldn’t. She couldn’t stand it being on her. She looked at it and saw two little black dots, thinking that those were the worm’s teeth that had grabbed on and wouldn’t let go. She put her hand under water and finally got it off.
Stopping the rape
158 The next day Esmeralda went down to the shore to see if the mermaid had come back from her journey. It was a long time since she’d last seen her. She missed her presence. The mermaid was swimming with the seals a little way off shore. Esmeralda was so happy to see her! They dived down into the ocean together and went to their favorite spot next to the colorful coral.
As soon as they settled down Esmeralda told the mermaid about the worms, which were still vivid in her mind. The mermaid suggested they try to unfold this experience in movement and asked Esmeralda which part of the experience she felt closer to. Esmeralda realized it was the part where she was trying to get the tiny pieces off her, so they started from there. After a while the mermaid managed to seduce Esmeralda and she decided to try to join the mermaid in the dance. She wanted so much to have the freedom to be sexual.
They started rolling around and at some point their legs got intertwined. Esmeralda noticed that she froze inside and couldn’t follow. The mermaid encouraged her to go more into the freezing. Esmeralda curled up and finally threw the mermaid off of her. She hated having that reaction. “I don’t understand, why I am so stuck,” said Esmeralda. “Why can’t I be sexual?” she asked. “I don’t know sweetheart,” said the mermaid, “but your body is wise and it must have a good reason for this reaction. Let’s just go into it again and explore it more.”
They went back into rolling and Esmeralda pushed the mermaid off again, this time with such force and determination that she startled herself. “Does this remind you of something?” asked the mermaid. “Is this a reaction you didn’t have at some point in your past?”
When the mermaid asked that question, the image of the man she made love with for the first time lying on top of her came to her mind. “I was terrified and frozen,” said Esmeralda. “I was so mixed up. I felt so bad about myself for being a virgin at the age of twenty-four, for not knowing anything about making love, and for being so afraid. I thought my fear was sick. I felt bad that I wasn’t the liberated sexual being I was supposed to be; that I wasn’t enjoying sex and having orgasms like my friends were. He climbed on top of me with the attitude that I had to stop this nonsense and let him do it, which is what I did.”
“You’re not sick, Esmeralda. That’s what you’re pushing away!” said the mermaid. “Whenever something sexual happens, this voice comes in and says you’re sick, there’s something wrong with you. Your body is reacting to that very wisely. There’s nothing wrong with you and your sexuality!”
The mermaid started telling Esmeralda about her own sexuality, and for the next hour they were deeply involved in a conversation about sex. They talked about orgasms and the different positions that help stimulate the clitoris; about how awkward it feels to tell your partner what turns you on, or ask them to show you how to do something they like. About how tense the atmosphere can get if your
159 partner gets offended when you ask them to do something different. They talked about making love with a woman and making love with a man. They just shared what was in their hearts and minds.
“It’s so relieving to be talking like this about sex,” said Esmeralda. “Yes, it is!” said the mermaid. “When you brought out your questions you stopped the rape. The thing that says you shouldn’t talk about sex, you should keep it all inside and feel bad about yourself because you’re sick, is the rapist. There’s nothing wrong with your sexuality; it’s a beautiful flower blooming. It’s a snake, a kundalini rising, it’s beautiful.”
Esmeralda felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. She felt so blessed that the mermaid had entered her life and was taking this journey with her. She was her sister, her lover, her friend, her teacher, her mother, her baby, her kindred spirit.
Mystical connections
As she was running her 90 seconds in the park the next day, Esmeralda saw a young man coming from the opposite direction and smiled at him as they crossed paths. He gave her back a big smile and then shouted from afar, “You’re sexy!” Esmeralda grinned from ear to ear! She was so surprised!
She continued walking, mesmerized by the synchronicity, feeling she had just received a gift from the outside world, a confirmation that she was on the right path. “God works in mysterious ways,” she thought. “God, the universe, the unbroken wholeness, that mysterious thread in the background.”
Emergence of body sensations
A week later, two days after her 34th birthday, Esmeralda got back the results from her Pap smear. The report read, “benign cellular changes.” There was no evidence of cancer, but it wasn’t entirely normal either. She was worried this was the beginning of cancer and felt the need to contact the elf, so she tied a message to the pigeon’s foot and sent it on its way.
A few hours later the pigeon returned with a message from the elf. He settled her fears by telling her that it was normal for many women to get such results once in their lifetime, and that it almost never developed into cancer. “In fact,” he wrote, “every time the topic of women’s issues comes up, every cell in your body becomes activated and says, ‘Hmm, this is interesting and important!’”
He advised her to live as healthfully as she could and do some inner work. “Imagine whatever you imagine in your uterus, ovaries, vagina, and introduce a lot of kindness and wisdom down there.” The love and care in his response touched her. She felt safe and held.
160 That night Esmeralda was telling the elf that perhaps the lab technician had made a mistake while reading her smear. “Yes, they might have, or it might be cancer!” the elf replied. There was a matter-of-fact quality in his voice, as if he were saying, “Yes, you might die.”
Then he started working with a woman who was very subdued and sad and complained about everything. The elf encouraged the woman to go all the way and she started to scream, which brought a huge smile to her face. The elf told her she had found her voice!
Then he started working with a member of their community who had died from AIDS. When the two of them finished working they came and lay down next to Esmeralda, one on each side. She put her arm around them and savored the intimacy. Suddenly, she felt a nudge on her arm and woke up seeing that both of them were gone. She realized she had been holding her dead friend’s ghost.
Next thing she knew she was in her bedroom in the house she grew up in. She heard a noise in the bathroom. When she went to check it out, she found a stranger in there. He wondered what she was doing there, not knowing she was the middle daughter who had been away. Suddenly the atmosphere between them changed: they were in love, and started kissing.
Come sunrise the pigeon took off with a new message for the elf tied around its foot. Esmeralda wanted to know what the elf made of these night experiences. “The ‘cancer’ is all the passion in you, which wants to come out through your voice and in love,” the elf wrote back, wishing her good times with her newly found lover! “I love working with you and our dead friend; that is the part of you which is already enlightened!”
Later that day Esmeralda met up with the mermaid and asked her to help her imagine what was going on in her body. The mermaid encouraged Esmeralda to lie down, go inside and focus on her body.
After a while Esmeralda noticed that her belly felt very full. Staying with that sensation, she had an image of her belly being full of tiny worms coming out of the cells. Focusing on the image of the worms, she felt little tingling sensations in her body, tingles of getting turned on!
The mermaid swam to her cave and brought out her colors and Esmeralda made a quick drawing of the little worms and the body sensations they brought with them.
161
Esmeralda and the mermaid hugged tightly, rejoicing over the newly arising body sensations. They were both in tears.
Esmeralda rolled up her drawing and tucked it under her shirt to take with her. The next day she was flying back to her homeland for an extended visit after being away for two years. She felt full and at peace, excited and deeply touched. Every now and then she just burst into tears.
The next morning she woke up to the sound of birds singing, “Happy Birthday dear woman, happiness for your birth!” She opened her eyes and saw two hummingbirds sitting on her windowsill, alongside the pigeon singing this special birthday song the elf had asked them to sing to her. “That pigeon!” Esmeralda thought to herself. “That’s what that mischievous smile of his was all about last night!”
Facing the demon
Two days later she flew back to her homeland. The landing was a shock to her system. “Let me take a good look at you!” a friend of hers said as soon as he saw her, examining her from head to toe. “Did you put on some more weight?” She was caught off guard. She had forgotten that look. She had been back for less than an hour and was already being pulled back into this vortex. It hurt. She struggled to hide the pain, recover from the humiliation, regain her sense of pride and beauty, her self-love.
“I put on some weight after I stopped smoking. My body is slowly adjusting to the change,” she mumbled faintly. She was excusing herself; she was still in shock.
Hours later when the friends who had welcomed her left, she cried and cried. Finally, she took her clothes off and went and stood in front of the mirror. She looked at her big breasts, her round tummy, her flabby thighs and butt, struggling not to let this viewpoint inside take over. “I’m sensuous, I’m sexy, I’m beautiful,” Esmeralda whispered to her image. “Keep wearing your beauty, hang in there. Give yourself all the kindness in the world, love who you are. Listen to me! You are a gorgeous creature and I love you!” That night she lay down feeling happy inside because she knew she was intact. Her friend’s comment had collided with this viewpoint in her, hurting her, but this viewpoint was no longer the only one inside. There was another viewpoint developing, one that was more loving towards herself. The elf, the mermaid, the pixies, the fairies, and their love were all living inside her now.
She was emotionally exhausted but in one piece, which was a personal triumph. The next few months were going to be a challenge. Would she be able to make space for her inner life, value it and follow its direction? Would she be able to find her voice in her own culture?
162 Going crazy
Ten days later Esmeralda thought she was going crazy. From the moment she woke up she had been feeling anxious; she had a physical sensation of tightening in the middle of her chest. She was in agony with a sense of imminent danger. Finally, she decided to lie down and try to sleep even though it was the middle of the day. The moment she started falling asleep she woke up in terror. She didn’t know what was going on; she felt like she was losing her mind. The pain in her chest had intensified and she was so scared she thought she was going to faint.
Feeling weak and hardly able to walk, Esmeralda dragged herself to her sister’s bedroom and lay down next to her. Her sister put her hand on her back, and that soothed her a little bit. She started breathing deeply, trying to relax, but the fear wouldn’t go away. “What’s happening to me? I’m scared and I don’t know what I’m scared of. Am I going crazy?” Esmeralda was in an altered state and freaking out about it! “Relationships are so cold, I can’t stand it. I need some warmth.”
Her sister tried to reason with her and help her calm down by telling her that their friends were in their own world and she needed to reach out and make contact herself. “No! No! You don’t understand,” Esmeralda exploded, continuing to have a sense of imminent danger. Suddenly she started crying so intensely that she could hardly breathe. Her sister stayed with her as she cried, which after a while somehow brought her back to her normal state.
She was so relieved to have her usual self back! She got up and called a friend and shared how cold everything felt to her now that she was back, which helped her feel connected again.
A few weeks later Esmeralda went to visit her parents. One night during her stay at their house on the island she felt something kicking in her belly and realized she was pregnant. She could feel the little feet sticking out, but the baby was still positioned high in her belly. It wasn’t time for it to be born yet. A little while later she felt her belly again and realized the baby had moved and was now ready to come out. “Things are simple! Native American women just squat underneath a tree and give birth,” Esmeralda thought to herself as she squatted. A minute later the baby just fell out.
The morning after she felt very excited. After all these years of experiencing being pregnant this was the first time she had actually experienced giving birth. “I must be on the right track,” she thought to herself and smiled.
The months she stayed there she fell in love with her homeland again. This was her land, her people. She felt the urge to come back and give whatever she had to offer.
163 Going for it
Three months later Esmeralda flew across the ocean again. It was strange being back. Everything felt foreign to her, but a few days later she felt at home again. For some reason the transition from her homeland to this “foreign” land always felt easier to her than its opposite. Coming back to a community of people that supported and valued her inner life and non-linear nature was relieving to her.
It wasn’t till after she had left her homeland that she realized how much she had swallowed while being there, without reacting, not wanting to rock the boat. Finding her voice in her homeland was not an easy task.
A week after she had arrived Esmeralda was in the middle of a group working on a motorcycle accident she had had years ago. It felt good to take the space for herself again! She hadn’t worked in the middle of a group since she had first gotten involved in her psychology training.
Playing the force behind the accident, she propelled herself through the air. “A little chaos is good for the health!” the force was saying. “You’re too organized, too structured! Loosen up!” The dancing spirit, who was working with her, helped her take it further, and she ended up grabbing people in the group she wanted to have a more personal connection to. “You need to push yourself over your edges, Esmeralda,” said the dancing spirit. “Follow your impulses and grab the people you want, bring them into your life!”
Esmeralda followed her impulses that evening and approached someone she liked. Although it didn’t work out the way she had hoped it would, it didn’t really matter. Her newly found freedom made her feel so alive. “Take your fear by the hand and go for it woman. Life is yours. Take the risk. Indulge and devour it!”
Standing against sacrificing the mystery
One night a week later Esmeralda was walking down the street when she heard the sound of tanks rolling on the ground. The German army was coming. She ran to the building she was heading to and as she reached the entrance she saw army trucks parked outside and soldiers coming off the trucks. One of her teachers was standing there talking to a general. They all went inside and locked the doors, although they knew it wouldn’t keep the Germans out.
The teacher told them that the Germans had offered them a deal. If they gave them a woman to rape, the rest of them could walk free. The teacher looked at her and Esmeralda understood she was thinking she should volunteer to sacrifice herself. “It’s time for the innocence to go,” the teacher told her. Esmeralda got furious at her and refused to do it. She went outside to the courtyard where the Germans had made everybody stand in a line. Three little girls were standing apart. The Germans were going to take them. As soon as she saw them
164 Esmeralda knew she couldn’t let the army rape the little girls. She was old; she could take it. The teacher was right; it was time for the innocence to end. She took their place.
As the others marched off in formation, they started singing a song that sounded like the epic music Hollywood war films used to end with. In a corner, factory workers stood watching the people leaving. They were sneaking pillows to them, which the people took and put under their coats over their hearts. A few days later Esmeralda was walking through the forest looking for the elf, taking it all in with her senses. It was so nice to be in the forest again after such a long time. She had missed the smell of the trees and of the damp earth, the sound of creaking branches and buzzing insects, the sun shining through the trees.
She found the elf sitting underneath a tree enjoying the sunshine on his face. She sat down next to him and told him about the anxiety attack she had experienced while back in her homeland. The elf told her she could not live if she was not connected to her dreaming.
When the elf heard about her experience with the German army he had a strong reaction. “That teacher is wrong!” he told her. “I’m going to stand up to the ‘Germans!’”1. I’m not going to let the heart be sacrificed. You have a very rational, linear side, Esmeralda, but I don’t want you to sacrifice your heart, your feelings, your weirdness, your mystery. We have to be careful now that you’re finishing your program that we don’t sacrifice your heart.” Esmeralda sighed; something was soothed inside.
Being naked in relationships
A few days later Esmeralda headed back to the forest. She wanted to talk to the elf about the experience she had had lately while making love. The elf was waiting for her. They took a thermos with some warm green tea and sat underneath an oak tree.
“The whole atmosphere was so cold, I froze.” Esmeralda told him. “I wasn’t free! I was all crunched up. I wasn’t erotic, I didn’t know how to touch or what to do!” “Of course I’m stiff,” replied the elf “I have you on my back, criticizing me!” Esmeralda cracked up laughing.
“Esmeralda, you need to bring in your dreaming. Your feelings, your shyness, your fear; you need to bring them all in,” said the elf. He went on to tell her stories from his youth when he was fearful and shy about making love.
1 The word “Germans” is in quotation marks to remind us that equating it to linearity and rationality is a stereotype.
165 “Come on now, try it here with me! All you have to do is go inside and report on your experiences,” he told her. Esmeralda went inside. She felt herself breathing and all the worrying was gone. Then the weirdest thing happened. The elf leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree and the sole of his foot touched her leg and suddenly the previous night’s experiences came tumbling in.
“Last night I was in your bedroom!” Esmeralda told the elf. “I was sitting on your bed and you were sitting on a chair, to my right, working with another woman. I felt I shouldn’t be there since it was her time to be with you and decided to go to sleep until you finished. While drifting off I heard the woman ask you if you would work with her more regularly. You told her that you didn’t have time to work with her. I fell asleep and woke up hearing you doing something. I sat up in bed and you rested your hand on my leg. The atmosphere was very intimate. Moonly came in the room and started talking to my sister who was sitting next to me and I felt a little awkward for a moment but then I realized it was O.K. for me to be intimate with you, moonly wasn’t jealous. Then, I was standing naked in another room trying to put my bra on before you came in. But hurrying I put it on backwards so I had to take it off and put it on again while you were there. Somehow though being naked in front of you was O.K.”
“We don’t have to work on your not being free, it will go away on its own,” said the elf. “The way you relate to me—the way you bring in your dreaming, the way you are so intimate and close—is very naked. I hadn’t realized that this was not part of your identity. You have to take me into bed with you. You and I are lovers in a way. You’re too “Germanic”, too ordinary, too linear. You need to bring me into your relationships. Bring in your weirdness, your intimacy, your feelings. You need to practice being with people the way you are with me. You’re beautiful in your nakedness.”
Esmeralda left feeling at peace and happy inside. She was starting to see why the elf was so important to her. With him, she acted in ways she didn’t dare be with others, but this was who she really was. This made life meaningful, made her happy. For her, this was the only way to be.
The birth of the Taoist
A week later Esmeralda got depressed and hopeless about ever being able to learn to work with people after working in the middle of a supervision class.
That night a lot of people from her community, including herself, were on a plane coming back from a seminar. There was an explosion on board, but she survived as did her sister and her best friend. She felt terrible that she had survived while others had died.
She went outside and looked up at the sky. The sun looked very weird. There were clouds over it and it was dim. There was a meteor shower going on. She
166 stood staring in awe at the stars shooting across the sky. Suddenly she noticed that the sun was all over the place and realized the earth was spinning out of orbit! The planet was about to die.
A rain-like substance started falling from the sky and a strong wind started blowing. She held on to a lamppost in front of her. Her friend was next to her, but her sister was a few meters away. Esmeralda yelled to her sister to come next to her. Her sister did and the three of them hugged, forming a circle. “Wherever we go, we’ll go together,” Esmeralda whispered and she no longer felt afraid of dying.
The planet died and they found themselves on another planet. It was darker and there was no one around. Suddenly they heard something like a bulldozer coming. Esmeralda ran to hide behind a wall. She feared this planet’s inhabitants were evil and would want to hurt them. She knew, however, that they had seen her, so after a while she came out of hiding and joined her sister and her friend.
From a distance she saw a sweet old Chinese man approaching them and she immediately knew they were safe. He was a good hearted, loving, wise old man. He had white hair and was wearing a long robe the color of which mesmerized her. It was deep cobalt blue. He took the three of them to his house, and his wife, who was wearing a long green robe, came out holding a big glass bowl of custard that was three different shades. She offered them some. “Be careful!” said the old Chinese man to Esmeralda, “This spoon is alive and grabs. Don’t fill it up. Just put a little bit on the edge and take it fast before the spoon can grab you.” Esmeralda somehow knew this about the spoon before he told her. “I have to control myself,” she thought to herself, “I can’t be piggish or the spoon will get me.”
Two weeks later, feeling very down, Esmeralda took the trail that led to the elf’s cabin. She imagined he’d be inside, for it was cold and rainy. When the elf saw her he led her in front of the fireplace and encouraged her to stay with her feelings. Esmeralda lay down on the rug and after a while started crying. She cried and cried, and then suddenly reached out for the elf’s arm and held on to him. That somehow got her out of the state she was in. She sat up and started telling him about her recent experience of the earth dying, the wise old man, and the spoon that was alive.
“Eventually you’re going to develop into someone who doesn’t care about anything except the flow of nature,” said the elf. “This is a mid-life crisis! The way you identify yourself, your worries, everything you’re centering around, is changing. A different center is forming. It will no longer matter to you whether you’re good or bad, whether you’re accepted or not. It will not be a matter of light or dark but of the wise old Taoist.”
167 The elf’s words resonated deep within her. “Something wasn’t right about the way that supervision happened, or about the conclusion you came to as a result of it. Your dreaming doesn’t agree with that. You get depressed and cry and then you reach out for the Taoist whom you are seeing in me for the time being. Reaching out is not part of your identity; you think you should be independent. If you get depressed you should cry and holler and reach out. Don’t be shy; call me if you need me.”
Walking back through the forest she wondered what the spoon was all about. She would just have to sit with it and see what it revealed for itself.
Needing to love herself
Three weeks later Esmeralda met with her study committee to listen to the feedback they had collected about her from the other teachers in her training program. Her study committee was made up of four women—moonly, the mermaid, the dancing spirit and the monk—each with her own special powers and unique ways. They were accompanying her though her journey, mentoring and supporting her.
The first piece of feedback they gave her was that she needed to believe in herself more and the second that in the midst of intense interactions she often went into a complex without being able to come back out.
Esmeralda felt angry at the teacher who had said this, but the dancing spirit challenged her to bring out her reaction with them. Esmeralda went inside to find out what was happening to her and realized that she felt hurt. Allowing herself to go deeper into the hurt she realized that this had been the main thing her family had always held against her and wanted her to change. The more they tried to pull her out, the heavier her silence and mood used to become. Without the support to go deeper she was stuck in between, feeling unseen. Esmeralda had recently talked to her mother about this dynamic and it had been the first time she had understood her mother’s experience.
“One day I came back from work,” Esmeralda’s mother had told her, “and I found you sitting in the living room with the shutters closed. You were all alone in the darkness and I freaked out. I thought you were depressed.” “I needed you to come and sit with me in the darkness instead of making me feel sick and trying to change me all the time,” Esmeralda had said, and her mother had broken into tears. “I didn’t believe in myself so I needed to believe in the psychological theories I had studied. If I believed in myself I would have followed you in there,” her mother had replied. Esmeralda had felt something melt inside when she had heard that. She knew how it was to not believe in herself, she understood. She felt close to her mother in a way she hadn’t before.
168 “I can see how the feedback we gave you could make you go crazy!” said the dancing spirit after listening to Esmeralda. “On the one hand we tell you to believe in yourself and on the other we ask you to change.” Esmeralda felt understood. “Congratulations!” exclaimed the mermaid, “You did it in the moment! You got into a complex and went deeper into it, found the hurt and what it was really about and then came out and communicated about it.” Esmeralda smiled from ear to ear!
The dancing spirit then told Esmeralda she wanted her to work with her in supervision and Esmeralda went into another trance. Exploring that she discovered that she was fearful of something harsh that came forwards sometimes in the dancing spirit and was afraid to tell her. Esmeralda felt she was suffering from something harsh in herself that she was trying to get away from. “No, don’t take it all onto yourself,” the dancing spirit told her. “You are seeing something in me that I’m trying to work on as well. You can be my teacher as I help you learn.” The five of them hugged, appreciating learning and growing together.
That afternoon Esmeralda found the mermaid sitting on a lava rock formation on the shore. She told her about a reaction she still felt inside that had to do with the newer teachers having given feedback about her. “There’s a rebellion going on inside,” Esmeralda said. “Something in me is saying, ‘Hey, I don’t want the whole bunch of them sitting on my head judging me!’ ”
The previous night Esmeralda had been walking down a street when she had noticed a man walking towards her. The minute she had seen him she knew that as soon as their paths crossed he would turn around, jump on her and try to rape her. Sure enough, as soon as Esmeralda passed by, the man turned around and started following her. But then she suddenly turned around, jumped on him and wrestled him to the ground. She unzipped his pants, helped him get an erection and raped him until something in her was satisfied.
This was a sudden turn of events! For as long as she could remember she had always been the one getting raped. She had never been the rapist before. Something was changing!
The mermaid helped Esmeralda step into the creature that was sitting on top of her, judging her. This creature was very brutal and nasty. It was heartless and seemed to hate Esmeralda. The mermaid stepped into being the creature to give Esmeralda a chance to react to its harshness, encouraging her to take it all from this creature until she was satisfied, but Esmeralda couldn’t do that so they switched roles again.
As Esmeralda stepped back into being the creature she suddenly realized it was being so mean because it was deprived itself. “Oh! I forgot,” said the mermaid. “I
169 first have to give you an erection before I can get satisfied! I have to pump you up! I have to love you!”
When Esmeralda heard these words she felt something melt in her chest. She was touched and a wave of love swept through her. “Don’t worry,” she said to the harsh creature, “you will no longer be deprived. I’m going to use your strictness and precision to notice every little feeling and need and I’m going to use your strength and determination to bring them out. We will no longer deprive ourselves.” Esmeralda felt the presence of the old Chinese man.
Later that night Esmeralda thought to herself, “There is a whole inner level to sexism. The outside world has become a part of me. The way I deal with myself is sexist. I embody the attitude that disavows feelings and needs and continue to deprive myself that way.”
Loving herself seemed to be the answer from her dreaming. “Sometimes I can’t do it alone, and other time, someone else loving me makes all the difference in the world!”
She remembered the difficulty she recently had had getting back to her writing and how a simple message that the pigeon had delivered unexpectedly from the elf had changed everything. “I hope your writing is traveling along well,” the elf had written. As soon as she had read those words she had felt that same melting in her chest and a strong yearning to get back to her writing. She had been very touched that the elf had remembered her while miles away doing other things. “He must really love me to remember,” she had thought to herself.
Feeling loved by the elf somehow helped her love herself and the whole struggle around writing. It helped her believe in herself again. The following day her thoughts about what she had to say had woken her up!
Internalized sexism
A month later Esmeralda was lying flat on her back on the floor, not able to move. She was in pain and felt alone and scared. Her back had gone out on her all of a sudden and she couldn’t sit or stand. Three days later she grabbed her journal and started writing, trying to make sense of what was going on.
“It has crossed my mind that my back has something to do with my writing,” Esmeralda wrote. “Six days ago, I got angry while I was writing about the subtle forms of sexism embedded in traditional Greek culture and I stopped writing. I remember the elf saying one should try giving a blow to a pillow when one gets a lower backache. It’s so hard for me to support my anger. Even something as simple as hitting a pillow is so difficult. I’ve been in pain for three days now and I haven’t even tried hitting a damn pillow. Come on Esmeralda, you just have to do it. Do it woman! Do it now.”
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Esmeralda put down her journal and slowly got up and gave a few good punches to a pile of pillows on the couch. After a while she lay back down and continued.
“It’s true. Punching the pillow and growling relieved my back a bit. But I have so much rage inside that punching the pillow is not going to be enough. I’ll end up hurting myself this way. It’s a good beginning though. As I was doing the movement work I had an insight. I need to allow myself to feel the rage that is inside me and speak from that place. I have to allow myself to be one-sided. I’m holding it back and it’s turning against me. I’m being sexist with myself. Let the anger be, let it speak!”
“Grr! I can’t stand it anymore! I hate it! I hate it! The world sucks. This whole fucking attitude that puts women down sucks. If I hear one more man talking about women in a degrading way, as if they are subhuman, there to serve them, to use and abuse and do as they please, I’ll kill him. I’m so angry, I just want to grab everyone who has this attitude and shake them, punch them, kick them, beat the shit out of them, scream and yell in their faces and sit on them until they wake up to how hurtful this attitude is. God, I can’t take this anymore. Sometimes I get so mad, all I want is revenge, and then the entire male population is my enemy. I hate them all.”
“What happened while I was writing? My anger freaked me out and I stopped writing. Then I started feeling bad about myself. I got heavy and depressed. The next morning I woke up thinking I should drop the whole subject. ‘I have nothing to say. There is nothing to say. I’m making things up. And even if I’m not, people will get hurt, I can’t write such things.’”
“One minute I was fuming and the next I was depressed! What happened? The minute I felt angry I turned against myself. It is sad, but I myself am so identified with that sexist attitude that infuriates me that I am now the one constraining myself. Living is a constant struggle to free myself inside, and awareness of all the ways I constrain myself grows painfully slowly sometimes.”
“It all happens so fast! It’s hard to notice and be aware of all the thoughts that I’m having in the background. The minute I realized I felt angry I started putting myself down, thinking thoughts like, ‘Look at you! You’ve turned into an angry bitch. You’re drooling poison. You’re blinded by your anger. You’re so one-sided you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re lying. You’re plain vengeful. You should burn your wood. You have no business writing while you’re so angry.’”
“Without realizing it I sided with these thoughts which made me feel guilty and want to give the whole thing up. I pushed my anger aside denying it the right to exist which may have forced it to find another way of expressing itself—this time through my lower back perhaps—and which made me feel depressed.”
171 “It’s hard to notice the thoughts with which I put myself down while I’m having them. They’re so painful I prefer to ignore them. Of course, I can’t really ignore them. Actually, by not noticing them I give them free reign; they dominate inside and there’s no one to react to them.”
“And things are even more complicated than that since sometimes my own critical thinking is intertwined in those thoughts and there is a message there for me to decipher. I need to defend myself against the self-hatred—picking up the energy of the creature that’s putting me down and using it to defend myself can be very helpful here—and at another point I need to also single out the creative ideas that are hidden in the criticisms.”
“Now that I allowed myself to feel and express my anger, if I take away the self- hatred, I’m left with the insight that when I am angry I get one-sided. Keeping this in the back of my mind while I’m writing will help me bring in the other side, or, if I am not able to, at least acknowledge that what I’m writing is one-sided.” Esmeralda put her journal down. She was happy with herself, feeling she had gotten really far in her inner work.
After four days of trying to deal with the whole scene on her own Esmeralda finally decided to follow her yearning and try to reach the elf. She tied a little note to the pigeon’s foot and sent it on its way. The next day the elf sent her a number where she could reach him.
Esmeralda told the elf about her backache and started telling him about the connections she had made to her writing, but the elf interrupted, asking what part of her back hurt and what kind of a pain it was, trying to determine the severity of the situation. When he understood that it wasn’t a slipped disk, or anything to do with the sciatic nerve, he told her not to worry about it. He recommended that once she was back on her feet, she start walking and doing some exercises that would strengthen the muscles that hold her back.
Talking about her writing he asked her a question that Esmeralda found helpful and wrote down to ponder later. The elf then offered a few more questions to her to help her structure her writing.
In the end Esmeralda told the elf that she wasn’t feeling as lonely now that she had spoken to him. “Your back helped you reach out to me,” the elf told her. “You can’t force yourself to do things that are hard for you alone. Relationship is important to you. You need friends and contact with the human race. Sexism is anti-relationship, anti- love. It has hurt you by telling you can’t follow your feeling nature, you can’t be needy, you have to be strong and independent. Be dependent, go for the connection you need.”
A few hours after she hung up the phone Esmeralda grabbed her journal again. “I feel so depressed and heavy. I feel like I should throw away whatever I have
172 written. I don’t have the answers to the elf’s questions. I don’t know what sexism is. I can’t write theoretically; he can.”
As soon as Esmeralda wrote that bells started going off in her head! “Hey! Something is terribly wrong here! The elf is a man. You believe in him more than you believe in yourself? You’re seeing what he said as the absolute truth while considering what you were able to figure out rubbish? Girl, if this isn’t sexism, I don’t know what is! How could you possibly not know what sexism is? You’ve been breathing it and struggling with it for the last 34 years of your life. Of course you know what it is!”
Esmeralda took a deep breath and started thinking back to her interaction with the elf, trying to figure out where it had all started. “My backache made me feel vulnerable and lonely. I needed him, his love, his support. Not being able to move scared me. Somehow, him knowing about it made it safer. I also wanted to go deeper into the possible connections between the process in my back and getting stuck in my writing. I guess I already doubted the connections I had found through my own inner work before I even called him.”
Esmeralda remembered that the elf had interrupted her when she had started sharing her thoughts with him. “Aha!” she thought to herself “I took that as a confirmation of my own self-doubts about my discoveries: the elf wasn’t interested in listening to my ideas. Now I was convinced that all the thoughts and theories I had written about my backache were rubbish.”
She realized there was even more to it than that. “I felt similar to how I had felt when my second grade teacher snubbed me, and I turned against myself in the same way. I felt hurt, embarrassed, humiliated. How could I have been so stupid as to offer to share my thoughts with him? How could I have thought that I had figured out something worthwhile about myself? My inner work was wrong. The elf would tell me the real meaning of my backache!”
All this had happened in microseconds! “Still!” Esmeralda thought to herself. “I remember feeling a little pinch when the elf interrupted me sharing my discoveries with him, and then a feeling of heaviness and sinking. If I believed in myself more, I would have paid attention to that little pinch and focused on it rather than going along with what the elf was asking me. I would have gone deeper into my feelings and would have discovered all of this then. But noticing my feelings and focusing on myself while I’m relating is not my strongest point yet so I just went down.” Esmeralda was amazed by what she was discovering now. “When he later told me that my backache helped me reach out and ask for help, that I can’t force myself to do things alone, that relationship is important to me, I felt relieved, I felt he was right. At the same time this made me sink even deeper, because it was so different from what I had found while processing my backache. It didn’t occur to me then that both of us could be right! For me, the fact that what
173 he was telling me felt so right inside was further proof that I had been wrong! When he gave me the questions to structure my paper around, I liked them because they were food for thought, but they also fed my feelings of inadequacy.”
Dealing with internalized sexism was the hardest for Esmeralda. When she was able to notice the ways she put herself down and process the scene internally, it was much easier for her to deal with the outer social scene. Then experiencing sexism around her might make her angry, sad, or even hopeless but it didn’t hurt her. It didn’t affect her self-esteem. If she hadn’t dealt with her internal scene, however, the external oppression sided with the internal and crushed her.
Unfortunately, dealing with her internal scene was not a one-time thing. It happened again and again. It happened so often and so quickly it was hard to believe, but over the years she had developed a side that managed to keep afloat enough to realize that she had plunged into feelings of worthlessness and go back searching for the moment it happened. The awareness of what had sunk her usually brought her back up to the surface. The more she honed her awareness, trusted her feelings and focused on them, the less time she spent sunk.
A lover on her back
Two weeks later Esmeralda woke up and for a moment didn’t feel any pain in her back. She felt so empty. She felt like something had deserted her. She was so happy when a few minutes later she felt the pain again in her back! It was the weirdest thing! Completely irrational!
Later that day she walked slowly to the edge of the water where a dolphin took her gently on its hump and brought her to the mermaid. The mermaid helped her lie down on the bed of the ocean and put her hands on Esmeralda’s back.
Esmeralda felt a presence in her back all along her spine, radiating something to her whole body. As she became this presence on the mermaid’s back, it unfolded into a strange creature that was rubbing its face and body on the mermaid’s back, murmuring with pleasure. This creature was contactful and felt very loving.
“You’re the most beautiful being in the world!” the creature said to the mermaid who was playing Esmeralda. “Anything that comes out of your mouth is a gem!”
174 The dolphins came and took Esmeralda back up to the surface, then escorted her all the way to the shore, making their heavenly sounds.
Esmeralda was ecstatic! “I have a loving creature living in my back,” she thought to herself. “What a beautiful surprise! I sure need this lover!”
Esmeralda realized that the mermaid, the elf and herself had all been right. Allowing herself to feel and express her anger was part of loving herself, as was allowing herself to be needy and reaching out to those she loved. She was very proud of her ability to figure things out for herself.
Thinking about her paper, she thought it had a very weird structure. It seemed a little chaotic to her, but she hoped that if she kept going it would somehow come together in the end.
“It’s nice to be working with a woman, with someone I feel on equal terms,” Esmeralda thought that night. “I don’t feel on equal terms with the elf yet. When that happens something major will have shifted in me.”
Loving herself
A few days later one night Esmeralda turned on the TV and saw an ex-lover of hers on Larry King Live telling her that he cared about her. It felt so nice to know that he cared about her and loved her and that he just hadn’t communicated his feelings all this time. Then she was in his house. He came over and hugged her and they kissed and made love. It was very different than it had been before. She felt so loved by him and loved him back; they were laughing and having a good time. Then they went outside in the yard where there was a celebration going on and he picked up a glass and toasted her, telling everyone, “This is my wife.” It felt good to be loved, respected, honored and celebrated.
The next day while she was sharing this experience with the mermaid she felt agitated and hopeless. She asked the mermaid to hold her and started crying. “It will never happen. It’s not real. I’m so tired of feeling unlovable, of feeling unloved.” “You don’t have to do anything sweetheart, the mermaid told her, holding her in her arms. “Your body processes and dreams are telling you the change is already happening all by itself!”
Talking about the ex-lover, they discovered he was the attitude in her that thinks she’s nothing special, there to be used and thrown away, of no value. But this part was now announcing to the whole world that it loves her, respects her, wants her for her wife, is equal, and is worth loving!
“Your primary focus so far has been noticing when you feel put down, internally and externally, and reacting in the moment. But your project now is to start
175 noticing and catching the moments you love and feel good about yourself,” the mermaid said to Esmeralda.
Showing herself
Two months later Esmeralda felt her heart beating faster and her breath getting shorter as she approached the elf’s cabin. There it was again, that same sense of agony she always felt when she went to see him. “I remember feeling like that when I was working on important things, and waiting to be seen and go into deep stuff,” the elf mumbled to himself when she told him. “We aren’t always together,” he then said to her. “In fact, we’re apart much of the time. How would it be to be living with me?” Esmeralda couldn’t believe he had asked her that question! All the forbidden thoughts and fantasies she had been having about him rushed through her mind, but she quickly pushed them away and froze externally. The elf noticed her freezing and started telling her about an experience he had had that morning with his publisher. “I was reading a letter from my publisher when I noticed I stopped breathing. I went into it and realized I felt like a thirteen-year-old girl with breasts, who doesn’t feel ready to make love yet, who’s afraid of being raped. So I wrote to my publisher and told him to be careful with his feedback because I’m sensitive.”
The story soothed something in Esmeralda and opened the space for her to go into her own feeling of agony. She saw a little girl curled up in a corner, afraid that when she moves to go out into the world the grown-ups will smash her. Then she saw a cartoon figure of a young girl being smashed by an adult.
The elf remembered Esmeralda’s experience of the German officer who wanted to rape her and said, “We have to find out more about the one who is doing the smashing.”
The voice of her father calling her mother echoed in her mind, taking her back to a scene when she was twelve or thirteen. Her father had gotten angry with her for coming out of the bathroom naked. He had told her mother, who then scolded Esmeralda and told her that she had to wrap a towel around her naked body now that she was becoming a woman.
The elf stood for the nakedness and said, “This is me in my naked body. I don’t want to cover it up, I want to be naked!” “Not in this house you won’t,” Esmeralda said, standing for the other side. “Yes, in this house!” the elf said. “I want to see you. I want to see your nakedness.”
“You were very naked with me, Esmeralda, the way you talked about your feeling of agony as soon as you came in,” the elf told her. “You’re in an important process of taking the towel off, of coming out and showing yourself, and you’re
176 scared. It’s huge! You should tell people how scared you are and how sensitive you feel.”
Esmeralda thought of the difficulties she was having with two of her teachers. She had been assigned to be their assistant in a class they were teaching together but felt there was no space for her to come in. As the assistant she had to hold herself back and leave space for the teachers, which had affected her ability to think; half-way through the class she had realized she could no longer think and follow what was happening. Esmeralda wanted to be seen and to feel she part of a team.
“You’re the ghost,” the elf told her. “Wanting to be seen is the thing that no one is bringing in. As the assistant you are in the position that holds the solution. Once you become a teacher you lose sight of the solution, which is not in hierarchy but in teamwork, playing the game together, throwing the ball to one another. Who makes the basket in the end has no special meaning. Believe in your feelings and stand for them. Talk to your teachers.”
The elf suddenly noticed that the sun was setting and realized he had lost track of time. “When you step into dreaming, into non-consensus reality, you’re stepping out of space and time,” the elf said. “I know two parts of you, Esmeralda. You are a big thinker but you are also a very mysterious woman. When you go into your feelings you step out of space and time. You have a tendency to squash that part of you. Don’t squash yourself. Don’t cover yourself up.”
Esmeralda left pondering the elf’s last words. The story she had remembered was more than just a story from her past. It was an image of her process in the moment. She didn’t believe in her inner experience enough to stand for it. She wasn’t supporting her nakedness. She wasn’t bringing in her sensitivity, her fear, her feelings. She was the one now who was covering herself up!
It always amazed her how fast the elf tapped into the essence of her being. His presence somehow created an opening in which she was able to connect with herself on such a deep level. This connection was probably part of why she loved being in his presence so much.
Tapping into her nature
Ten days later Esmeralda was working in the middle of a supervision class on the sensation of her heart beating fast and a sense of agony, which reminded her of the anxiety attack she had had several months ago while visiting her homeland.
177 Broomhilda, the woman who was working with her, helped her go deeper into what she was experiencing. Involuntary shaking came up, but Esmeralda had a hard time following it, since the shaking that happened to her every now and then embarrassed her.
With the group’s support Esmeralda let go and really went into it. She felt her whole body shake and her face get contorted. It was very satisfying to break loose! Esmeralda felt she was a wild creature, a nature spirit. Broomhilda encouraged her to turn that energy into a dance and soon Esmeralda was jumping and screeching all over the place. This was freedom, joy, ecstasy! It was being without holding back!
While in the midst of that dance she suddenly leapt and landed on the mountain pixie’s lap, surprising herself. She hugged him and felt how much she loved him, how meaningful he was for her, and shared these feelings with him. Esmeralda felt he and the group supported this energy, the vivaciousness and wildness in her, and this touched her deeply, since this was a side that she was not yet able to support in herself. Letting go and following her altered states led her to intimacy and connection. This was a different way of relating.
“This is also a spirit of the land that’s asking to be lived,” the mountain pixie said to Esmeralda. “The old gods, Pan, Dionysus, altered states. This energy is disavowed by the whole culture. This is not only a personal edge. Finding ways to live these non-consensus parts of ourselves is a life project.”
Later that evening Esmeralda was thinking this was what the people around her hadn’t been able to support in her when she was growing up. This was what scared them, what they had tried to contain. This was what she was having difficulty now supporting in herself.
Esmeralda felt that this energy, wildness, this freedom in movement, was intimately connected to her sexuality and the feeling of ecstasy.
The appearance of detachment
Three weeks later one night Esmeralda was with her godchild in the back yard of the house she grew up in, showing her white lines in the sky. The lines suddenly expanded, forming three white clouds that started swirling above them, and then a spaceship appeared! A wave of happiness swept through Esmeralda as the spaceship passed over their heads and she started flying. She knew they would come, she just knew it. The mermaid had told her so!
“Sit and meditate as if you are on a spaceship seeing things from above,” the elf told her when he heard about the appearance of the spaceship. He asked her what came to her mind when she thought of her godchild, and Esmeralda told
178 him how her godchild couldn’t get enough of her when she had been back in her homeland visiting that summer, and how she had been jealous when Esmeralda paid attention to other children. “She loves you! Smart kid!” exclaimed the elf.
“Somewhere in the background you are detached about life. Your detachment appears as you are hanging out with your self-love. You know the detachment is there.”
As Esmeralda started on the trail back she heard the elf shout to her, “Your paper should be fun too, Esmeralda. Do it from a distance. Just bring out what you feel. Don’t dwell on it too much.”
Divination
One night about a month later, Esmeralda was in a room with a big group of people, when the elf came in and told her she was a wizard being moved by the universe.
Wildness and passion
A month after that Esmeralda was working in the middle of a bodywork class on a sharp pain she felt in her upper middle back. She had just come back from a short visit to her homeland
Broomhilda, who was working with her, put her hand on the spot that hurt and Esmeralda felt her body push back into Broomhilda’s hand. The pressure on that spot somehow freed her breath. As she pushed back, breathing more deeply, she started feeling a slight tightness in her chest, which reminded her of the beginning of an anxiety attack, so she stopped.
The earth fairy, who was teaching the class, encouraged her to go back to her body experience. Esmeralda breathed deeper and deeper, focusing on her body. As she kept breathing she felt the fear reside and peacefulness slip in. She felt her head rise and go backwards, and her body begin to lean back. She tried to go into a back arch but her lower back hurt so she couldn’t go all the way.
The earth fairy told them that Esmeralda could get the same experience of her chest opening up by lying on the floor with her arms stretched open to the sides while someone else had their hands underneath her back, pressing up as she inhaled and releasing as she exhaled.
Esmeralda started breathing deeper and deeper until her breathing changed and she felt herself enter a trance-like state. After a while she felt her face starting to
179 twitch. The earth fairy encouraged her to keep going. Feeling safe in the earth fairy’s presence, she encouraged herself to go for it. Her head starting shaking and growling sounds started coming out of her throat. She could feel her face turning into an animal’s face and her feet and head starting to push.
As Esmeralda was pushing her head against Broomhilda, who was sitting with her legs open above her head, she felt like she was coming through a birth canal. She pushed and pushed until she flipped Broomhilda over and had her pinned to the ground when she opened her eyes.
The earth fairy encouraged her to keep going, telling her that it would be more difficult to do it with her eyes open. This helped Esmeralda get back into it. She started pushing Broomhilda until she had her pinned against the wall and then she started screaming again. She had never heard herself scream this way. Broomhilda told her to keep going and let any words that might want to surface come out and Esmeralda suddenly screamed, “I WANT TO LIVE!”
She felt she was screaming in reaction to everything that put her down, everything that stopped her outside and inside. She realized how much she had suffocated again from not speaking up about the things that hurt during her visit back home. She had noticed everything but had still not been able to speak up.
“What wants to live is a wild and passionate woman,” said the earth fairy. “Something that is beyond the culture’s edge. It’s deep under the earth, deep inside the body. Your homeland is a social reality but it’s a psychological one as well. It’s outside and it’s inside.”
After this session, Esmeralda went to the park and ran, which she hadn’t done since her back had gone out five months ago. Her body wasn’t in shape to run for a long distance, but she felt the impulse in her to run forever, yearning for that sense of freedom and opening of the chest.
Afterwards she wrote in her journal, “I get anxiety attacks. I’m afraid of my own wildness, my weirdness, my altered states, my shamanic nature, my body sensations, my anger, my power, my passion, ecstasy. When this side of me gets a chance to live I feel so alive. Will I ever be able to make space for it in myself and in the world around me?”
Breaking the silence
The next day Esmeralda found the elf hanging upside down from his favorite branch and climbed up to join him. She felt awkward at first, like she couldn’t express herself. She talked, but the words didn’t really describe what was happening inside. As soon as she said this, things started to feel real.
180 She told the elf about the agony she felt not knowing what would come next in her life. The elf asked her what was keeping her from going back to her homeland. “The sexism that permeates everything there is hard. It’s heavy and difficult to deal with. It’s outside and it’s inside and the inside gets really activated when I’m there. I go back and I try to fit in. I don’t react to the things I feel put down by; I’m afraid to rock the boat. This weighs me down. It’s not an easy place for me to be and at the same time I love it. I love the land and the people.”
“Don’t stay quiet any longer,” said the elf. “Start writing today. Talk to the patriarchal attitudes in men and women in your homeland. Don’t worry about being one-sided or neat, just say what you have to say. Break the silence. Speak out.”
The elf remembered the experience she had had several months ago with the German army where she sacrificed herself to save the kids and told her that it was time now to see that in a different way. “The adult in you needs to adapt a little bit to the outer world, such as by writing your paper, so that the child in you is free!” he told her.
The next day Esmeralda sat down in front of her computer and a poem popped out. During a writing class a few days later, a supportive and encouraging voice emerged from within.
“Esmeralda, you have a wealth inside. You’re rich in your feelings and your understandings. People need you and the gifts you bring. Don’t hide. Don’t be afraid. We’re here with you, behind you and in front of you, to hold and support you and cheer you along the way. You are a culture changer. Believe in yourself, your feelings, your insights, your heart; they will help a lot of people. Your strength is in your ability to be personal. Come out! The world is your home; you are needed everywhere, you belong everywhere. Don’t be afraid. Write! You have so much to say! Let it all come out, it’s important, you are important, you can make a difference, you can have an effect. We love you, we believe in you, we’re proud of you.”
Sexuality arising
The following night Esmeralda had an erotic experience that was extremely difficult to write in her journal, let alone tell to anyone. Rather than writing down her experience, she wrote, “Guilt! That’s what stops me, my guilt! Good girls don’t follow the erotic sensations in their bodies, don’t pursue their sexual pleasure. Sex is dirty; it’s a sin! This belief system is inside my body, ingrained in my cells. As little as I identify with it, I’m full of it. The shame, the guilt, the feeling that I’m doing something dirty, something wrong whenever I have an erotic dream or fantasy, whenever I make love or masturbate. The ‘church’ is a part of me and it’s stopping me from having a different experience of my body.”
181 “Last night, I edged out with my lust! This word appeared in the poem I wrote a few days ago and now it’s in my dreams. This is my dreaming. Will I embrace it? Will I open up the boundaries of my known world to include this other body experience? Lust, roughness, ecstasy! If I could only go beyond the saint/sinner dichotomy inside, stop seeing sexual pleasure as sinful, unethical, indecent. If I could only allow myself to experience all my body sensations, give my body the freedom to move the way it wants to move. If I could only stop forbidding myself these experiences I would be free. Inner freedom, that’s what I’m striving for; living freely in this life.”
The following night she was in her house, which was built high on the side of a tall mountain. At the bottom of this mountain lay the ocean. A big storm was going on outside and strong winds were blowing.
Esmeralda noticed that water was coming in through the crack underneath her door and was amazed. “The waves must be huge for them to be reaching all the way to the top of this mountain,“ she thought.
She was fascinated by the storm and at the same time afraid of the water flooding her house. She got up and made sure the doors were locked so that the water wouldn’t burst them open. Next thing she knew it was morning and the storm had died down.
She was so disappointed she had slept through it. She wanted to have seen those huge waves. Everyone was leaving because a second storm was predicted for that night. The roods were already flooded and looked more like rivers than roads. If she stayed, she risked not being able to get out, but she didn’t want to leave. She was afraid but fascinated; she wanted to stay and experience the storm that was coming.
The following morning Esmeralda dived into the ocean and found the mermaid swimming amid thousands of bright red orange little fish. Esmeralda wanted to tell the mermaid about the erotic experience that she had had a few nights ago but was too embarrassed. She felt all tied up inside. Instead she told her about her fascination with the storm and the huge waves.
“We could go into movement exploring the waves or we could stay with the sense of being tied up. Which would you rather do?” the mermaid asked her. Esmeralda felt that going with the waves, though unknown, in a way would be easier for her than staying with that sense of being tied up. She knew that going into movement, getting in touch with the energy of the waves would free her in the moment, make her feel good. But that sense of being tied up was something she knew very little about, and the state it put her in felt much harder to explore, so she decided to find out more about that.
182 It seemed to be the same with closing the door to the waves, with starting to write about sexism and stopping, with feeling a reaction coming up in her and not bringing it out.
Feeling tied up inside felt very uncomfortable. She was lying on her stomach on the floor feeling extremely tense and agitated. It was like being stuck in thick mud, not able to move. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, she felt frozen. The mermaid put her hand on her upper back, which freed Esmeralda’s breathing. She hadn’t noticed before that she was hardly breathing. This reminded her of the time after her first sexual experience when she felt so guilty she could hardly breathe. Then she caught the first thought! Something in her was saying, “You’re fucked up! You can’t even talk.” “That’s a bind,” said the mermaid and Esmeralda felt relieved. This comment had pulled her out of it.
She started thinking about the erotic experience she had had and how ashamed she felt to say it. She tried to catch the shaming thoughts. “Sex is dirty! Don’t talk about it. Don’t you dare talk about it. You should be ashamed of yourself, you’re a whore.” The “church” had appeared again. The thing that surprised her and hurt the most was that it was so alive in her, that it had such a big effect on her. “It shames me and makes me feel guilty whenever I have a sexual experience and the shame and the guilt tie me up,” she said to the mermaid.
“On top of that, I blame myself and feel ashamed for having the church inside of me; for not inhabiting my body fully, for not being free to move, free to experience my body sensations, free to enjoy my sensuality and sexuality as other women do. This is also part of what ties me up and makes me freeze.”
“There is nothing you need to do, honey!” said the mermaid; “You’re perfect the way you are. There is nothing wrong with you or your sexuality! You’re an incredibly sensual, sexual being!”
Esmeralda cried for a long time in the mermaid’s arms, feeling grateful for the mermaid’s presence in her life. That night Esmeralda took out her journal and started writing the erotic experience she had had a few nights ago.
“I was sleeping naked on a bed, outside on the sidewalk, when a heavy man came out of his house to go to work. It was still dark outside; the sun hadn’t risen yet. The moment he walked out of his house I started worrying that he would see me and try to rape me. I pretended to be asleep but kept peeking through my closed eyelids to see if he was coming towards me. Sure enough he was.”
“He approached, leaned over me and whispered, ‘Oh, you’re naked!’ I tried to scream, to call out for help but my voice was so faint I could hardly hear it. Then I realized I could fight him! I engaged with my hands and started pushing him off. He was strong but so was I! Suddenly I flipped him over and climbed on top of him and started raping him instead! I was standing on my feet and had my vagina
183 in his face, moving my pelvis back and forth so that his nose touched my clit and the opening of my vagina. I was getting turned on. It felt so good to be using him for my pleasure. I grabbed his penis, which was very small and soft, and started playing with it until he got an erection, and continued moving my hand up and down forcefully trying to make him come.”
It felt relieving to put this experience down on paper. She knew that living this energy was not going to be an easy task.
As Is
Two weeks later Esmeralda had the experiences with the huge crane that lifted up the sailboat and took it out to the sea, and the encounter with the mermaid where they discovered in her the character that felt, “What you see is what you get! I’m not going to change, grow, or develop! I’m fine the way I am,” that are described in the first chapter.
Changing attitudes
That night Esmeralda was lying in bed next to a woman cop who was teaching her how to make love to her. As they were kissing, the woman put her tongue in Esmeralda’s mouth, capturing her tongue. “All the way, do it all the way,” she told Esmeralda. There was a rough quality in her movement that Esmeralda liked.
As she was caressing this woman’s body the woman suddenly stopped her. “Hey, it’s not work! Don’t do it as if it’s work!” Esmeralda realized that she herself had this same attitude while making love, which she had often experienced and didn’t like, of doing something without feeling it just to get the other person turned on.
She relaxed and tried to forget about making her partner come. Instead she went into the sensuality of making love, caressing, kissing, licking her, getting turned on from the experience herself. After a while the woman started to come and Esmeralda took her hand away from the woman’s clit, but the woman put her hand back and kept it there while she went through three or four convulsions. “That must be what an orgasm is like,” Esmeralda thought to herself, “like energy running through you. If you don’t get scared of it and stop it, it comes naturally.”
Later that day, after she finished writing this experience in her journal, she thought to herself, “I’ve never written these words as often as I have during these last few days! My experiences at night are taking me over the edge just by having them!”
A few days later Esmeralda dove into the ocean and swam directly to the mermaid’s cave. They went to their favorite spot next to the corals and Esmeralda started telling her about a crush she had on someone, and the whole
184 flirting scene that was happening between them. Esmeralda couldn’t remember the details, especially the ones that had to do with this person showing her he liked her.
Lying there on the ocean bed the mermaid held Esmeralda in her arms and insisted that she remember every single detail. In the end they were trying out all kinds of different ways that they would tell someone they liked them, laughing with each other. Suddenly, the intimacy of the situation brought to Esmeralda’s mind the experience she had had the night before with the woman cop and they both realized they were smack in the middle of her dreaming. They looked around and saw that they had attracted all kinds of colorful fish, sea horses, starfish, and other creatures that lived in the bottom of the sea! Intimacy, love, incredible joy!
Cutting through shame
Ten days later one night Esmeralda won the lottery. She couldn’t believe it. She asked them if they were sure she could get this money even though she was a foreigner and they said yes. She was so happy. Now her all her money problems would be solved, and she could stay where she was.
Then she was on roller skates skating on the street. She could really skate and was skating fast. She passed a yellow light and kept skating until she started approaching a house where three male friends of hers lived. One of them was a friend with whom she used to be very close, another was her friend who had died of AIDS a few years ago, and the third was the ex-lover who a while ago had announced his love for her on Larry King Live.
The closer she got to the house the more uphill the road became and she started wondering how she was going to skate uphill; she feared she’d start rolling backwards. But she skated all the way up to the top and at the last little bit where she needed some help, her close friend reached out his arm and pulled her.
She went into the house and found her friend who had AIDS lying on the bed. She lay down next to him and kissed him. The atmosphere between them was erotic and intimate. Then her ex-lover came and lay down next to her on the other side. She was in love with him and felt a strong physical attraction. Esmeralda started kissing his fingers and he opened her mouth and stuck one inside. Esmeralda got shy and stopped. Though she wanted to continue she got up and went through a door that was to her left.
Suddenly she was in her bedroom in the house she grew up in. He followed her there and sat next to her on her bed. “I get shy around intimacy and you leave me. Why? You act shy but you really like rough sex. I think what you want is to
185 be fucked over with a sword!” “This is too much!” Esmeralda thought to herself and started coming back to her everyday world. While floating between the worlds she had one last thought, “I’m shy to be as sexy as I feel, to allow myself to be free in bed.”
As soon as the sun rose Esmeralda dove into the ocean looking for the mermaid. She found her struggling to free an octopus that had been caught in a fishnet. After they freed it they swam to a rock covered with sea anemones and sat amongst them.
“Your dreaming is telling you have created a loving background support for yourself that is there for you to fall back on, to take you through,” said the mermaid as soon as she heard Esmeralda’s latest experiences. “There is nothing to do really Esmeralda, your process is rolling along!”
As they were both in an explorative mood they decided to go further with that sword image, which was so mysterious, and which had brought Esmeralda back from the realm of dreaming.
Esmeralda began making the motions of holding a sword with both of her hands, bringing it down with a swift motion as if cutting something in front of her, but she couldn’t see anything but fog. She tried cutting through the fog, having her whole body be the sword but she was still surrounded by the fog. The mermaid suddenly disappeared into her cave and emerged a few minutes later holding a real metal sword in her hand, which a dolphin had brought her all the way from Japan.
Esmeralda stood there in the bottom of the ocean holding it, feeling its weight and the coldness of its metal blade. Then she slowly raised it above her head and brought it down swiftly and forcefully. She repeated that movement for quite some time when suddenly she saw the sword cutting in two a bald head and the body that was connected to it. Bald. The image of her father flashed through her eyes and she had an insight. She was cutting through the shaming.
The night before, when she couldn’t go further while making love, she had gone back to her childhood bedroom, the place where she had been told she needed to cover up her nakedness, the place where she had stopped feeling at home and started feeling ashamed of her body. The one shaming her inside needed to die.
Diversity, worldwork and wildness
The night of her 35th birthday Esmeralda opened a door and saw her friend who had died from AIDS a few years ago sitting naked in a bathtub. Other people from their community were jumping in to join him. There was still space for more
186 people but not everyone wanted to jump in. Esmeralda did but felt shy. “I could get in there, it would be nice,” she thought to herself.
Then she was in a room with an African American friend of hers who was studying in Chicago. “Would you please take me with you to Chicago for a weekend?” she asked. “I want to go to there. That is the place I was conceived; the moment of my conception, the moment I decided to come down into this world, was the most active moment of my being.”
A few weeks later Esmeralda was climbing a steep hill to go find moony and the elf who were waiting for her on the top. The full moon was shining brightly to help her find her way among the tall trees.
“Fascinating experience,” said the elf as soon as he heard about her wanting to go back to her moment of conception. “Go ahead and be a spirit hovering above.” “What made you come down? What pulled you here?” he asked her after a while.
“Love” Esmeralda replied. “Why Chicago? Why not Athens?” he asked again. “It’s alive! Athens is too uptight. Chicago is looser! There’s music, people dancing, making love, fighting; it’s alive,” said Esmeralda. The elf then asked her what came to her mind when she thought of her African American friend and Esmeralda remembered that she had recently asked him to take her along to the prison where he worked. She had felt he could help her come out into the world.
“Something about diversity and worldwork brought you here, and something about wildness. “Wildness takes a lifetime to develop, “the elf said to Esmeralda. “There is something in there also about getting in the bathtub with your death.”
The three of them hung out until it was time for her to go back. “This is about mid-life and the healer who makes life worthwhile,” the elf told her as he bid her farewell.
Desiring her body
A week later Esmeralda went in search of the mermaid and found her playing hide-and-go-seek with a sea turtle, who thought the perfect hiding place was inside her shell. Esmeralda wanted to work on her weight; she had gained weight and hated what she saw in the mirror. The mermaid, however, noticing that Esmeralda was lying down resting her face on her lap while talking about working, wasn’t quite ready to jump in. Instead she encouraged Esmeralda to stay where she was and notice what came to her.
187 Pictures of fuller-bodied women she had seen in a magazine a few days ago came to Esmeralda’s mind. One picture of a woman, who was leaning on her elbows on a kiosk, poking out her big round butt that was accentuated by the tight black dress she was wearing, had stayed in Esmeralda’s mind. She was really sexy!
The mermaid swam to her cave and brought out her crayons and asked Esmeralda to draw. Esmeralda first drew the shape of the woman’s butt and then started drawing her own body and all the areas it felt round to her; her tummy, her thighs, her breasts. In the end she drew a big smile on the face!
That smile and the belly that looked pregnant attracted Esmeralda and the mermaid the most. Finally they decided to begin exploring the mystery of the smile.
Esmeralda noticed that as they were talking she was caressing her thigh and focused on what her hand was doing.
After a while she realized that her body actually felt good to her, but as she remembered how it looked, she got depressed again. The mermaid encouraged her to go back to her proprioception.
Esmeralda lay back on the ocean bed and let her hands move on her body. After a while the mermaid started caressing Esmeralda’s body. The mermaid’s touch felt nice on her body, but very soon she got shy as she began to feel sexual pleasure from it. The mermaid stopped, wondering herself where the line was. She lay down beside Esmeralda and started feeling her own body, but they both felt the mystery was lost.
They went back, this time in their imagination, and imagined touching one another, rolling around, being ecstatic together. They talked about how much they loved each other and how important their relationship was to them. “I fear that one day I’ll make a huge mistake and you will leave me,” the mermaid said to Esmeralda. “There’s nothing you can do that would make me abandon you,” Esmeralda replied. “I might get really pissed at you but I’ll always come back and have it out, no matter how hurt I get!”
As she was swimming to the surface Esmeralda remembered how shy she had been to get into the bathtub with her naked friend and felt the mermaid and she had just jumped in there together, bathing in the intimacy of their relationship.
188
That night Esmeralda couldn’t stop thinking about the two different experiences she had of her body. “Sexuality has been linked so strongly to a specific body image it takes a lot to break out of that,” she thought to herself. Never before had she realized so clearly how those beliefs were ruling her experience of her body.
What she had been seeing in the mirror was what the mainstream culture around her was seeing, which of course was now also a part of her, but this had nothing to do with how her body actually felt. She loved and enjoyed the physical sensation of her body; it felt very sensual to her.
She had been overweight most of her life, never felt at ease in her body. She had always been embarrassed and ashamed of it, hated it, and sometimes still did. And yet the proprioceptive experience of her body was totally desirable to her!
It was such a relief, such ecstasy and joy to have a clear awareness of this other experience of her body that existed in her! This was what the elf, months ago, had called the ET’s experience of her body. But she had only fleeting moments of experiencing it then, for she was still so much identified with the experience of hating her body.
Esmeralda noticed that after this encounter with the mermaid she started walking differently. Her hips loosened up and swung freely from side to side, her shoulders went up and her chest out making her breasts pop out more; she was feeling more at ease. “This is my body! These are my curves and swings! I’m sexy in this body!”
She often still had a problem with certain parts of her body, but she now had days when she looked in the mirror and thought she was beautiful! This was a huge change!
Giving birth
Three weeks later one night Esmeralda was swimming in the sea when she noticed a little girl sinking a few yards away from her. She quickly swam up to her, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her to the surface. When they reached the shore Esmeralda took the girl by the hand and went to the girl’s mother and told her that her daughter needed her. “She’s loved by so many people, she doesn’t need me any more,” replied the mother. “That’s not true,” said Esmeralda, “She needs your love, she needs her mother.”
A wise old woman with white hair then appeared and told Esmeralda it was time to write. “Go ahead, just put it down on paper. It’s already written, you have it all inside,” she told her. “Write it quickly and you’ll fill in the blanks later. Just put it down.”
189 The following day she swam to the bottom of the ocean to find the mermaid. She was depressed. She felt sad and lonely and still wasn’t getting anywhere with her writing; the pages remained blank.
When Esmeralda told the mermaid about her experience with the little girl who was drowning, the mermaid started yelling, “Help, somebody help! I’m drowning over here. I’m going under!” Esmeralda went over to the mermaid, helped her get up, hugged her from the back and held her. “Come on sweetheart,” she said, “Get up! Don’t worry, I’m here. I love you, I’m going to hold you for as long as you need, I’m here.” “Oh! I feel happy now,” the mermaid exclaimed.
Swimming back to the surface along side the sea turtle Esmeralda remembered that on her way there a mask with a huge smile had caught her attention. “Yes, happiness is around the corner,” she thought to herself. “I’m having a hard time right now. I need to be around friends, I need to feel loved.”
Later that day she reached out to the elf, who sent her a message telling her to relax, hang loose and have fun!
Then later that night Esmeralda was in her homeland visiting a friend who had recently given birth. She cradled the newborn baby for a while and then passed it to someone else who wanted to hold it. After a while her friend came over with the baby in her arms. “Here, you should hold it as much as you can since you’ll only be here for a little while,” her friend told her, but Esmeralda was already feeling a little detached from the whole scene and no longer felt the need to hold the baby. She felt she had something else now, something of her own, which was inside. She no longer needed to hold her friend’s baby.
This was an amazing experience for Esmeralda, since just a few months ago when her friend had given birth she had felt such a strong yearning to have a baby of her own it was almost unbearable. And it was a prophetic experience as well, for as it turned out Esmeralda was going to give birth the next day to a baby of her own!
The next morning Esmeralda felt strongly the need to be with people who loved her so she called two friends of her who lived outside the city. As soon as they heard she was having a hard time they told her to get in her car and get herself down there.
When she arrived a few hours later the woman took her in her arms and reassured her that things would get better, and the man packed the car and took her fishing. That evening, feeling loved and taken care of Esmeralda sat by the river watching her friend fishing.
190 The rhythmic movement of the fishing line mesmerized her and suddenly she had an insight! “I have to identify as someone having something to say in order to write!”
It was a rather simple thought, yet it was the key that unlocked the door to her writing. She grabbed a pencil and paper and the words started flowing through her. She had an ecstatic experience writing that whole weekend.
Recycling her blood
About a week into her writing one night Esmeralda was sitting on the toilet holding a sanitary napkin made of cloth. The next time she saw the mermaid, Esmeralda told her about this and they started talking about menstruation and blood.
Esmeralda had grown up in a culture that saw menstruating women as dirty and menstruation as not to be talked about. For years Esmeralda felt that way, until a book that described the practices of Native American people fell into her hands and changed her attitude. In that book she had read how bleeding was considered sacred by the Native Americans and bleeding women especially powerful, since the veil that separates the worlds was thought to become more transparent to them during that time. Women were excused from their daily chores and gathered in a special teepee where they sat bleeding into the earth, giving the blood back to her whom they considered to be their mother. The book also described practical ways women could gather their menstrual blood to water their plants. Esmeralda had found that nourishing her plants with her blood had changed her whole feeling and attitude towards that part of herself.
“This is what you are doing with your writing too,” said the mermaid “You’re recycling your blood. You’re taking the painful experiences and turning them into something that nourishes you. Keep going, your writing is powerful.”
Facilitating aggression
Two months later one night Esmeralda had to go to court to defend a kid she knew from when she worked in an institution for young children. This boy was now a teenager and had gotten himself in trouble with the law. Esmeralda went to court and told the judge that this boy’s anger calmed down when he was loved and that she didn’t believe he should be put in jail because that wouldn’t be right for him.
The judge agreed with her and didn’t sentence him to jail, but when they came out of the courthouse Esmeralda realized she had been naive. The boy was now a teenager and the next thing he was going to do was to kill someone, a woman, and she would be responsible for this woman’s death. The boy’s attitude was,
191 “Hey! I’ll use whatever I can to survive. She loves me and can get me out of this mess? Great, but I’m no angel!”
The following day the Tao chose her to work in the middle of a group with the mountain pixie and the monk. She wanted to work on her backache, which seemed to be coming back. The mountain pixie asked her to make him feel what she was experiencing in her back and she grabbed his back.
“Anger!” said Esmeralda. “Yes, I remember you screaming yesterday. It’s great to raise your voice,” said the mountain pixie. Esmeralda started talking about how she had felt put down in the past for expressing her anger, and the pixie asked her if she felt put down in the moment. Esmeralda was surprised by his question. She wasn’t aware of feeling put down by him and yet the minute he asked her that question she realized she had felt put down by his remark about her screaming the previous day.
“Oh!” exclaimed the pixie, “You heard me make a psychiatric diagnosis.” “Yes,” said Esmeralda, forcefully pulling a tissue out of a box and wiping her tears. “I like the resolve in that movement you just made,” commented the pixie. “The thing is to catch it in the moment. What do you want to do with the perception now?” “I want to feel that there is nothing wrong with me,” said Esmeralda. “Do you feel this is a relationship issue between me and you or inner work?” he asked. “Inner work,” she replied.
The mountain pixie asked Esmeralda to be the one making the diagnosis while he played her. “You’re all screwed up. You’ve got anger stored up and you explode any chance you get. Your anger is sick,” she said
“There are three characters in this play. There’s a parent, a hurt child, and something in the back that looks like this,” said the mountain pixie, making the grabbing hand motion and grimace Esmeralda had made when she was trying to make him feel what she was experiencing in her back.
The monk and he played out the interaction between the one putting the child down and the hurt child while Esmeralda watched them. “You just need to be killed,” Esmeralda said to the monk who was playing the one putting down the child. “Who’s going to do it?” asked the pixie. Esmeralda took a cushion and put it over the monk’s head. “I’d be more violent but I know it’s you down there,” she said to the monk. “How would you do it?” asked the pixie. “I’d just leap on her, grab her from the chest and shake her to death,” she said.
“The fact that you didn’t want to hurt the monk is important. You should know that about yourself and warn people. How would you warn her?” asked the pixie. “Please stop and listen to what you’re saying. I can’t take this any more. If you continue I’m going to get out of control,” said Esmeralda. “For the time being I still feel responsible,” added the pixie helping her go even further with the warning
192 “but I won’t be in control after that. Let’s work together so that it doesn’t have to come to that!”
“Awareness is the key. You’re facilitating a group process between different parts of yourself,” he said. “The anger can’t be put in prison, but it must be facilitated and needs a parental understanding of how your history has shaped you rather than a psychiatric diagnosis. It’s a long-term project and needs compassion towards your growth and development. The body symptom is in your back. You must be trying hard to get away from your anger. Did you at times feel you were more aggressive than what you wanted or liked to be?” “Yes, especially in interactions around men-women issues I felt my anger hurt people,” Esmeralda said.
“Being more identified with your aggression allows you to be calmer,” said the pixie. “Strength and force come out more intentionally. Going more deeply into aggression rather than away makes you more peaceful. Identifying with being more aggressive is going to make you be able to come out earlier and say, ‘Now listen here dear man, you better take that back if you want to keep on living!’”
“If you repress your anger, push it away, and store it, you will then explode in someone’s face. You’re seeing that your own strength can be potentially abusive. You’re beginning to facilitate your own aggressive part, Esmeralda!”
On the path to a black tongue
A month later one night Esmeralda was sitting with her father next to a window, taking turns looking through a telescope, when they saw a witch flying on her broomstick across the full moon! Suddenly, the witch appeared in the bedroom, grabbed Esmeralda’s chin and opened her mouth. “Your tongue is not black yet!” the witch screeched after inspecting Esmeralda’s tongue. Esmeralda knew that having a black tongue was the indication of having become a witch, so, without wasting any more time, she climbed on the broomstick and the two of them flew off into the night shrieking mischievously and screeching with joy!
When the elf heard about her encounter with the witch he got very excited. Esmeralda had been telling him that she was feeling depressed about working with people; it was hard and wasn’t satisfying to her. The elf asked her to tell him about a client of hers and the two of them talked for a while, analyzing the client’s process.
Esmeralda loved having a theoretical discussion with the elf. She felt he was taking her seriously and loved that she was able to talk with him on that level. “Yes, of course,” said the elf when he heard that. “We need to feed the father in you too. But now close your eyes and be irrational. What would you do with that woman if you were a witch?”
193
Esmeralda closed her eyes and tried to imagine having the freedom to be irrational in that situation and suddenly saw herself leaping towards her client.
“You need to be more irrational when you’re working with people, trust that side of yourself more,” said the elf. “Use your brain, but then trust and be the witch that you are! You have great powers in the realm of dreaming. You need to trust it. Let yourself be irrational. Get a broomstick in your practice room and wave it at people, bewitch them!”
Life myth appearing
Ten days later one night Esmeralda was standing next to the window in her parents’ bedroom when she suddenly felt a force grabbing her from the chest and holding her up in the air. At first she thought it was her grandpa’s spirit, but this was a more forceful spirit making its presence known. Then she found herself walking in the street with a woman who was totally naked, feeling at ease with herself and her nakedness.
The following day Esmeralda headed for the forest. It took longer than usual that morning as she was suffering again from intense lower back pain. Magically, the elf appeared just as she reached the edge of the forest and the two of them sat down on a patch of green grass. It was a beautiful autumn day but Esmeralda’s spirits were low.
She told the elf about the pain, about how she couldn’t wait to go to sleep and get away from all the sadness she was feeling and how she didn’t want to wake up and leave the blissful state of sleep. Finally she told him about the forceful spirit that had grabbed her.
The elf had Esmeralda become this spirit as he lay on the floor being her. Esmeralda started kicking the elf in the back, exactly in the area that was hurting Esmeralda, and making him roll. “Come on, get up. Get up and get your act together,” the spirit was saying. “You’ve got things to do in the world, quit lying around!”
The elf then got up and asked Esmeralda to make fairy tale with him:
“Once upon a time,” said the elf. “Deep in the forest lived a woman who was one with nature,” continued the mermaid. “Wild berries were growing out of her hair which was very long for she never cut it!” said the elf. “She was a creature of nature,” said the mermaid, “deeply entangled with it all. But one day a spirit came and grabbed her away from all the roots, the branches and the berries and freed her for she was so entangled she was stuck there! ‘Come on’ the spirit said to her, ‘it’s time to go out into the world. You have to leave the night now and come out into the day.’ ‘Oh, I don’t want to!’ cried the woman. ‘I’m scared.’ ‘You have
194 to!’ said the spirit ‘Just do it!’ The animals, the trees, and all the forest creatures cried as the spirit took the woman away, for they did not want her to go. “Do not cry my beloved ones, this is my home. I can never leave you really, for this is home,” the woman told them as she followed the spirit out of the forest.
“You vegetate too much,” said the elf to Esmeralda as soon as they finished the story. “You have to use your discipline to get yourself out of bed. You’re reacting to the psychological climate you grew up in by being unconscious, but something else now wants you to get up and move, take a stand, show yourself. Your cold, disciplined side is used only by your critic. It’s time for you to pick it up and get your act together. Exercise regularly so you strengthen your back, sit down and write your paper, learn what you need to learn to finish your studies. You have a task in the world to take a stand for what you feel and think.”
Her homeland came to Esmeralda’s mind. “Eventually I have to go back and take a stand there,” she said “but I don’t want to!” “What do you want?” asked the elf. “I just want to be loved,” said Esmeralda.
“You can have both,” said the elf, hugging her. “You never have to leave here all together, but being in a hug won’t be enough for you. You have to come out and show yourself, take a stand. You were out in the streets with this naked woman. I think you have a myth to come out and take a stand in your homeland. The spirit grabbed you in your parents’ house. Your myth is going back. I understand you not wanting it! Who wants their myth?”
Then, remembering the work she had done a few weeks ago, where she had gone inside, almost into a comatose state, and emerged pushing and screaming, the elf told her, “You have to notice all your impulses, Esmeralda. You’ll have all sorts of weird impulses with people now, all sorts of thoughts and ideas! Notice them, grab them, hold on to them, and act on them. Things will come out of you spontaneously. Just bring them out. No preparation is needed. Just do it as it arises. You are a volcano erupting.”
Being “macho”
Two months later one night the police arrested a man, but the officers who arrested him were men and couldn’t be tough enough because they belonged to the same gender. A group of female officers were called in to take over this case, for they would be able to be tough with him. If the prisoner had been a woman, male officers would have been needed to enforce the law.
The following day Esmeralda got up in the morning and started to dress. She put on a pair of pants, a long sleeved T-shirt, and a checked shirt that she had bought some time ago but never worn. She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t like what she saw; it was too rough! She yearned for a nice long dress or a
195 skirt made of soft fabric, something that would flow with her movements, a softer, brighter, more delicate look. Still, she went out dressed like a logger!
As she was heading for the coast she got stuck in traffic behind a bus. On the back of the bus was a huge picture of a male police officer wearing dark sunglasses, warning people about the consequences of driving under the influence of alcohol. There was an air of coolness and absolute power about him that irritated Esmeralda.
She found the mermaid sitting on the lava rocks. It was a sunny winter day, a rare occurrence for that area, and the mermaid was lying on the rocks soaking it in. Esmeralda sat down next to her and told her all about her recent experiences. The mermaid picked up on her irritation with the police officer and asked her more about that. The thing that disturbed Esmeralda the most was this “macho” attitude of feeling and acting cool, knowing you have the power to do anything you want.
The mermaid encouraged her to imagine feeling like she had the power to do whatever she wanted. She got up and stood like a “macho” guy. This brought to her mind an interaction she had had the previous day with a teacher of hers, whom she had felt put down by. She realized that while she was trying to tell him where she had felt put down by him, she had ended up making herself small, taking the blame onto herself. Esmeralda was so irritated with herself for doing that; she was sick of it.
As she imagined talking to him from a feeling of power and self-assurance, a very different communication style came out of her. She was straightforward and to the point, telling him exactly what had made her feel put down in their interaction. The mermaid noticed the clothes Esmeralda was wearing and asked her if they were new. Esmeralda laughed and told her the whole struggle she had had getting dressed that morning. She had often heard the elf say that it’s something else that dresses us in the mornings, not ourselves, but Esmeralda had never experienced it so strongly as that day!
That night Esmeralda wrote in her journal:
“My ‘default setting’ is being nice, gentle, soft, taking care of others, making myself small, taking the blame even when the other one has hurt me or put me down. I have a hard time being rough, shooting straight, being direct, letting my bark out and this greatly impinges on my sense of freedom! I am so tired of being nice! It weighs me down. Lately I’m finding that the more space I can take, the more ‘weighty’ I can be in my interactions in the world, the less in need I am of my physical weight. My sense of power and self-assurance, as well as the freedom to be that way in the world are slowly developing in me. Standing tall is terrifying for I’m breaking cultural taboos and gender stereotypes. I’m going
196 against people’s expectations, my own expectations but it’s so exhilarating, invigorating, and gratifying! I like my softness and sensitivity, I don’t want to throw it away but I don’t want it to suffocate me either. I want the freedom to stand tall and speak my mind without having to apologize for it.”
Monk in relationship
Two months later Esmeralda took the trail to the forest. As she approached the elf’s cabin her heart started beating faster and she stopped to calm herself down.
“What would you do if you were free to show your excitement?” the elf asked her when she told him about it, but she couldn’t answer. “Wow! You’re at an edge to allow yourself to express your ecstasy! You’re a little bit shy of expressing the happiness you feel in relationships. Somebody has put you down and hurt your feelings for being a wild creature. I’m going to model the woman who’s inside of you,” said the elf and showed her how he would show all his excitement when he saw someone he liked.
“Come on now, try it here with me,” said the elf. “Tell me how you feel when you see me.” Esmeralda went inside feeling all the feelings she had for the elf and then exclaimed, “Elf! I just love you. It makes me so happy to be around you!” “How wonderful,” he said. “What kind of sounds go along with that happiness? Is it like a child’s sound, a ‘yippee’, or a hum? What do you hear?”
Esmeralda got quiet. “Did you hear it?” asked the elf. “No, what I heard was that my laughter is too loud,” said Esmeralda “Oh! I’m glad to meet the negative figure!” said the elf. “Did someone say that to you?” he asked. “Yeah, all the time when I was growing up,” said Esmeralda.
“Your laughter is too loud? I’d like to hear a little bit of that laughter! What kind of laugh do you have anyway?” he asked in a way that made Esmeralda crack up! “There it is!” exclaimed the elf. “This is an exciting moment! You know what this is all about? This is the edge to being happy! The edge to laughter!”
“Last night there were these huge waves... they were magnificent... A friend of mine was showing me how to surf them and I was surfing these huge waves,” said Esmeralda. “Just flowing, just letting go! What comes to your mind when you think of this friend of yours?” the elf asked her. “He recently told me that he was a monk for ten years,” Esmeralda replied.
“I got you!” exclaimed the elf. “This is why you’re sitting like this Esmeralda,” he said noticing that she was sitting with her back straight, in a meditative position. “I’ll sit like this too!” he said and joined her in her posture. “You see, this is a very specific relating style. It’s from the inside out. Studying exactly what you are feeling and then moving with the feelings. If you feel excited then you would show excitement, in whatever way seems to follow that. For example you would
197 say, “It’s great to see you elf, I love being around you.” And I’d say, “Is there any sound that goes with that?” And you would study yourself and say, “Mm, not allowed yet! O.K. This is the Tao in the moment!” Esmeralda cracked up laughing!
“That would be going with the waves, you see,” continued the elf. “There is a certain inward monk-like nature that you have, that you have always had relative to your inner life. It is in your nature to be like that in relationship, to come from the inside out. That is you, lover and monk. And that is you in outer things as well. In worldwork you frequently will go out and then you will always go in, deep down underneath. Wonderful! Just follow your inner path.”
As the elf was speaking Esmeralda went inside again. “Mm. There she goes. That’s the wave,” said the elf. “That’s you! Just follow your body and your feelings.” Esmeralda following her impulse moved closer to the elf and snuggled in his arms. “It’s so nice that you support my inwardness. It makes me feel safe,” she told him. “I forgot all about safety,” the elf exclaimed. “Safety is having the permission and concentration to follow what’s happening inside yourself while in relationship. Not having to do anything. If nothing is happening, that’s right. If something is happening, that’s right.”
“Yes, I think that’s how I lose myself in relationships,” Esmeralda said. “I’m all focused on the outside, on the other person, and I lose touch with myself. Then I freak out because I don’t know what to say or do anymore. I can’t be outside but I don’t support myself to really go inside either, so I end up being stuck in between and get silent. It’s an uncomfortable silence though, it’s not the silence of going deep inside, which makes the other person feel uncomfortable too.”
“I see,” exclaimed the elf. “When you don’t know what to say or do, then there’s nothing to say or do but to focus on the inside. It’s simple really. What you need is ‘monk in relationship’, and ‘monk in sex’ too. Just ask yourself, ‘Is the flower closed? Will it open or will it stay closed?’ Whatever! The point is to just trust, to go with what’s happening inside. You’re a monk. You need to be very strict about being inside. That’s important, it feels safer and it’s easier,” He told her.
“Oh! If I had no inner life I don’t know what I would do in life. I would be lost! But I trust it to tell me what to do. It’s all inside and I’m so happy inside because I trust it. When I don’t trust it I feel disoriented,” the elf mumbled to himself.
“That’s probably why I feel at home with him!” Esmeralda thought to herself as she was heading back.
The sugar barrier
198 Ten days later Esmeralda headed back to the forest. She was hoping the elf wouldn’t be exploring some far away corner, for she really wanted to find him that day. She had been having strong cravings for sugar that were driving her mad.
“You want something sweet,” exclaimed the elf when he heard. Esmeralda had found him with the help of the hawk who had spotted him on the top branch of a pine tree. She didn’t feel like climbing that day, so she leaned her back against the trunk of the tree and sat there next to Albert Einstein, the frog. “You would like somebody to kiss you, stroke you, and be nice to you,” he said, climbing down to the ground and giving her a kiss on the head. “You’d like a sweeter life. Is that possible?”
“Yeah, sure,” Esmeralda said, moving toward the ground, face down, holding Albert in her arms! “Oh! You’re going down underneath,” exclaimed the elf. “What’s happening in there?” he asked, poking his head into the tiny space that was left between her head and the ground. Esmeralda laughed when she saw the elf’s face right next to hers. “I surprised you,” he said. “I came right in there with the frog! I broke through the barrier! This is the sweetness barrier!”
The elf helped her explore what happened to her when he came so close, and Esmeralda realized it scared her and made her feel shy. She liked and wanted the elf close to her but she wasn’t used to such closeness.
The elf told her he thought she was getting cravings for sweets because she was craving closeness and intimacy. “You want to get close to people,” he said, “but something in you is a little shy about it. The heart in you makes no barriers, but the software in your head that came from the culture you grew up in does. This is the worst thing about patriarchal cultures. These barriers mess everybody up.”
Esmeralda broke into tears, feeling hopeless about ever being able to break these barriers. “It’s really simple,” exclaimed the elf. “If you like somebody, watch the physical barrier you have with them and just break it. Don’t work on it. Don’t think about it. Like a craving, just grab the person and smooch right in! You’re a very intimate person. For you, to be at a distance with anybody you like is really crazy. It simply won’t work for you. I’ll bet you that will cure about seventy percent of your cravings.”
The elf was jumping up and down from excitement, but Esmeralda was still feeling hopeless of ever being able to do this. “I trust my body instinct on those things Esmeralda, not my mind! Notice your body impulses and just shut your mind off and grab the people you like!”
Esmeralda wasn’t talking much at this point, and the elf starting singing an old song that suddenly came to him. “Take me in your arms and never let me go. Hold me, make love to me,” he sang, which put a smile on Esmeralda’s face.
199 “Ever had a thought or a fantasy of ‘hold me in you arms’?” asked the elf and Esmeralda told him she missed that and sank back into her silence.
The elf asked her what she was thinking and Esmeralda realized she had disappeared. She couldn’t remember what the last thing the elf had said to her. She had gone blank!
“Oh! This is a very big thing we’re doing here! We’re in the right area,” exclaimed the elf and proceeded to ask her some very personal questions.
He asked her if she got turned on every now and then, if she masturbated, and if she had any fantasies while she did. Esmeralda said she did and the elf asked her to share one of her sexual fantasies with him.
“Oh, elf,” exclaimed Esmeralda. “What did I ask,” exclaimed the elf. “Oh my god! This is too much! But it’s not! It’s just personal! It’s human! Sexual fantasies are very important, you know. They are incredible. You want to look at them; they’re very rich. They contain in them future interests, processes that are unfolding. I know it’s intimate, but tell me a little bit and then I’ll be able to make gold out of it for you.” It took Esmeralda some time to even think of one of her sexual fantasies, but after the elf had shared one of his, she ventured forward. “It’s being with somebody who really loves me, really wants to be with me, desires me. We’re fully clothed in the beginning but by the end we’ve taken everything off. It’s a wild passionate thing. Most of the times we’re leaning up against a wall or something, or I jump on the person or sit on them or something like that.”
“In your fantasies you’re experimenting with different positions. Has that been your experience in real life?” asked the elf. “No, I’m mostly lying on my back frozen,” said Esmeralda. “But in your fantasies that’s not the case! You’re out there, free to move! These are beautiful fantasies,” said the elf and went on to explore the freezing Esmeralda had mentioned.
After finding out the details, the elf lay down on the ground pretending to be Esmeralda and had her choreograph him. “Here I am, and this guy is just about ready to jump on top of me. The atmosphere between us is cold, impersonal; I feel I could be anyone. I feel awkward, inexperienced. Be my adviser. What should I do? Should I stay here and freeze? Should I spread my legs or close them? I don’t know what to do, I’m uptight...”
“Get up!” Esmeralda told him. “First of all, get up! You don’t have to be down there.” “Right! Get up,” said the elf getting up. “And then? Shall I tell him to do it standing?”
Esmeralda went quiet and tears started rolling down her cheeks. The elf dropped the role-play and jumped to her side. “You’re too alone in there. I got it! I’m
200 coming in close, Esmeralda. What you need is me in the bedroom with you.” Esmeralda let go and started crying.
“What are you feeling Esmeralda?” the elf asked tenderly. “This is a big area. I’m going to crawl in with you. I’m going to say that you need the freedom to feel and to be whatever you’re doing. If it’s crying, that’s O.K. If it’s being frozen, that’s O.K., because the point of the sexual contact is just the process of being with somebody.”
Esmeralda felt incredibly relieved listening to his words. “I don’t feel free to do that because I feel I’m screwed up,” she told him. “Oh,” exclaimed the elf. “You see, I don’t have this pathology paradigm, it never got in there with me, so in my mind you’re not screwed up at all. In my mind, you’re dreaming! If you’re scared and frozen then that’s how you are, and you just have to say, ‘Yikes! I don’t like what’s happening. Let me out of this atmosphere! Let’s make an atmosphere that turns me on.’ You see he needs this, he’s uptight too. You’ve got to tell him, ‘Come on, let’s work on our relationship and be people first a little bit more. Then we can screw too.’” That made Esmeralda laugh!
“Wow, the sugar area. Beautiful! You make a great lover, I can see you do,” the elf told her. “You’re warm and irrational. This is what I call a good lover; someone who’s uptight, doesn’t know what to do and is aware of it, gets up and says, ‘I don’t like this. Come on, let’s be more personal.’ That’s loving, that’s beautiful, that’s what everybody wants really. The patriarchal thing has gotten into your head and you think you have to just fuck, but it doesn’t really work all that well! Nobody really likes it! Who you are is what people are looking for! You, with all your weirdness in there is attractive! A part of you doesn’t realize that!”
The word weirdness reminded Esmeralda of the experience she had had the previous night. “Last night my hair was orange, bright red-orange, and you told me that wasn’t the right color for me!”
The elf asked her what she thought about orange and Esmeralda told him a story from her past. “When I was 18 years old I had just painted the closets in my room orange and a psychoanalyst who was visiting my parents’ center told me that I had to change it because that color would make my depression worse. I loved my room with the closets orange. I didn’t want to change it.”
“Where did the word depression come from?” asked the elf. “From a test he had developed that we all did. He was also an acupuncturist and put needles in my ears that were supposed to help me lose weight. I hated those needles; it was so humiliating having to go to school with those on. He wanted to put needles in the rest of my body too but I refused. I felt like he was coming on to me and I didn’t want to take my clothes off in front of him.”
201 The elf then asked her to tell him about her hair. “I’ve always had big fights about my hair. I didn’t know it was curly until I was a teenager. My father used to cut it short and brush it backwards when I was young and later on my mother cut it for me keeping the same hairstyle. I think I was 14 when I came out of the bathroom one day and saw a little curl! After that I started trying to grow it long and always had fights with my father about it. He thought it was too wild and sticking out all over the place. By the time I finished high school my hair was really long but one day my father convinced me to go to this barber who used to cut his own hair to get it trimmed a little bit and this guy suddenly cut it all off making it really short. It had taken me years to get it to that length. I freaked out and didn’t come out of the house for days. That was the last time I let anyone I didn’t like cut my hair.
“You love your hair!” said the elf. “And would you put a bright orange in there?” “No!” exclaimed Esmeralda. “It would be extreme to put orange in my hair! It’s not natural.” “What do you think about orange hair?” asked the elf. “It’s more sexy!” Esmeralda replied.
The elf noticed her taking a deep breath and asked her what she was thinking. Esmeralda told him that she didn’t feel sexy. “I got you! So you would like to add something because you don’t feel it somehow,” said the elf. “How would you be if you were to walk around feeling sexier? What would you wear?” he asked her. “I dress to cover up my body,” she said. “Instead of showing it,” he said. “So you would wear clothes that showed more of it?” he asked. “No, I feel I’m too fat to wear tighter clothes, Esmeralda said.
The elf was so excited he could hardly keep from jumping up and down. “O.K.! I got it now! I just have one more question for you! What do you think about me these days?” After hesitating for a while Esmeralda shared all the fantasies she had been having but never shared before about living with him. “Yes! Of course! We only got into this whole area today! Beautiful! That’s the association really because that makes you kind of embarrassed,” he said with a big smile.
“So, in this one sense, I am like that analyst. The dark hair—no coloring needed—and the woman that you are, is the person that I love. For me, you see, you are sexy the way you are. You don’t have to do anything. The way people dress or carry themselves doesn’t interest me, it never has. I’m really interested in who the person is, and that is sexy or not. And you are sexy! You, as you are, with your clothes on or off, are an absolutely wonderful creature to be close to, and I would like you to feel that. What I’m about to say might sound strange to you but your beauty is independent of your looks. You can’t make yourself more beautiful or less beautiful in my mind. You have nothing to do with it almost! It’s already there!”
Tears rolled down Esmeralda’s cheeks. She was deeply touched and relieved by what the elf was saying to her.
202 “You could be 100 pounds more or 100 pounds less, sixteen or ninety five, totally terrified in bed or totally open, it wouldn’t make any difference to me. It’s something else that happens to me with people. That’s the ‘me’ inside your dreaming. I was in your experience last night, you see, telling you about your hair. I’m part of your dreaming. I’m in you, too. You somehow know you are a beautiful person. You have to look through my eyes a little bit Esmeralda. I have a different kind of eyes. See yourself and other people through my eyes. I want you to feel sexy!”
Esmeralda was beaming! It had never occurred to her before that her very nature, her essence, was sexy! “You should just lie in bed and think to yourself, ‘Whoever is around me is lucky regardless of the state I’m in!’” said the elf. Esmeralda started laughing and was still laughing when she got to the edge of the forest.
Later that day she remembered more of her sexual fantasies and realized that what they all had in common was that she was the active one, the one that initiates, pins down, stimulates, moves, licks, bites, or whatever. She was active instead of passive. “It’s very difficult to take this freedom in real life,” she thought to herself. “I immediately feel I’m doing something wrong, I’m being indecent. I bump up against all the inhibitions in myself. But what did the elf tell me today? It’s me, who I am, my nature, me with my shyness and fear, me with all my weirdness, insecurities, and inhibitions, me with the body I have, me in all my authenticity that is desirable! Taking the freedom to be who I am. Sexual contact is just the process of being with somebody.”
It was amazing how much had come out of a sexual fantasy! The words of a writer friend of hers, who had been trying to encourage them during one of her writing classes to write a sexual fantasy, echoed in her ears. “The most meaningful writing happens in the forbidden zone. It reveals how we relate to our own sexuality. It lets our mind out of a cage. It opens us up to more possibilities. Writing something erotic makes a pattern for yourself, it gives you more freedom. Just try to be open to what comes. Everyone is a sexual creature; reading out loud in a group of people makes you see that!”
Esmeralda put one more entry in her journal that night, wanting to pay tribute to a very special young woman, Coco, her fairy godmother, a woman of incredible beauty and heart, a shining spirit. When Coco turned ten and started turning into a woman, she had taken Esmeralda by the hand and taught her how to come out of the bathroom naked, in pride. She had then brought her into the circle of women who were there to celebrate her own passage, and initiated Esmeralda, at the age of 35, into womanhood with her. “Thank you Coco for your being. You’ve touched my heart and soul.”
203
Epilogue to Sexuality
Having written all this Esmeralda started to see the larger picture. She was a creature of inward nature that hadn’t been recognized as such and had thus been insufficiently supported to trust the wisdom and knowledge inside her. Without that she was lost, disoriented, didn’t know who she was or what she wanted. People around her had been trying to teach her how to navigate her life according to outer points of reference, such as values, goals and steps to achieve them, but it made no sense to her. It was a language she couldn’t learn.
She thought she wasn’t getting it because she was dumb. In terms of consensus reality, she started developing problems like getting fat, having low-self esteem, and feeling depressed. These problems fed on one another until she was locked into a vicious cycle, out of which she broke only after meeting all these creatures who slowly showed her the way back inside and helped her recognize and connect with her own knowing.
She had perceived herself as being inadequate to be in this world, which was true, but not in the sense she had believed it to be! The inadequacy was that she had learned to squash any manifestation of her dreaming, every impulse, imagination, fantasy, deep feeling, any emergence of her nature, trying to be what others thought she ought to be.
The outer reality had become an inner one and she now had to fight all these values and right ways of being inside. She had to open up to the idea that there was wisdom in her and make space for it to emerge. In the beginning she didn’t
204 believe anything was there. She didn’t value or trust it, not knowingly anyway. Something in her did, for she had made the most important decisions in her life by following what felt right to her, but that only happened in pivotal moments of her life, and she always excused herself for doing it. She didn’t recognize it as her way, didn’t embrace it as a legitimate way of being!
It took a lot of time. It took people loving her deeply, being patient, trusting and believing in her. It took people being different sets of eyes for her to see herself through, seeing for her what she could not yet see. This was an exciting time, for things were coming together in her now in a way they never had before. Finally she understood, she trusted, she valued, she knew. For her, this was the only way of being!
She could have never made this journey on her own. The universe blessed her with a family that supported her, financially and emotionally, with creatures with powerful magic to guide her along the way, and with the incredible luxury and privilege of being able to withdraw from the world for seven years and dwell inside. It was time to come out now, time to give all that she had inside to give, share this privilege, and fight for and help others as others had fought for and helped her.
205
A Suggestion for Change
andhi said, “We must be the change we wish to see in the world.” Arny Mindell1 recently shared this quote to illustrate his goal of modeling the changeG he wants to bring in the world as if he were the world changing. I deeply believe in this concept and strive to live it in my everyday life.
What does this mean in terms of sexism?
For me it means noticing in my inner work when I am having sexist attitudes towards myself; when I judge, put down, belittle or humiliate myself; when I stop myself from believing in and following my feelings; when I doubt my intellectual abilities; when I deem myself ugly or undesirable.
It means noticing in my relationships when I feel put down and bringing this in while trying to stay awake around the rage and vengeance this arouses in me. It means noticing when I become what I accuse the other of being in the process of trying to enlighten them; noticing how I use the patriarchal value system to judge and put others down.
It means noticing in groups when diverse opinions are being shut out in the name of one right way.
It means noticing in the world around me when people are being discriminated against because of their gender, age, race, religion, health, or sexual orientation, when they are being emotionally or physically abused, and intervening, speaking up, trying to stop discrimination.
I believe this is the work we need to do with ourselves, with one another, in our relationships, and in our interactions with the world around us.
In the past decades there has been a backlash to the blame and guilt men have felt the feminist movement putting on them for patriarchy. Allan Johnson, in The Gender Knot 2, talks about how part of the men’s rights movement has responded to the guilt by denying that male privilege exists, singing the praises of being male, and ignoring patriarchy in the rush to make men feel better.
1 Arnold Mindell is the founder of Process-Oriented Psychology and the author of many books. See bibliography. 2 Johnson G., Allan. The Gender Knot: Unraveling Our Patriarchal Legacy. Temple University Press, 1997, p. 181.
205
As an example he quotes Warren Farrell’s The Myth of Male Power, which reflects men’s fear of being blamed and how far some will go to avoid it. In his article “Can Men Take Responsibility for Patriarchy”, which appeared in Ms. Magazine, Johnson says,
Farrell argues that men aren’t powerful at all and are, instead, worse than slaves, thus perpetuating the abuse of male privilege by denying it… The struggle to end patriarchy needs men with the courage to face an oppressive and powerful system and other men, and there’s no way this can happen if men are fixated on guilt and blame. To take responsibility for patriarchy we have to look at how we’re connected to it. Men will have to claim, embrace, and own it without guilt or shame. We can’t hide behind arguments that patriarchy is about someone else... We can’t hide behind the damage we do to ourselves as we participate in it. Suicide doesn’t balance homicide, just as men’s abuse of themselves and one another doesn’t balance men’s abuse of women. Men can’t hold out until women agree to take care of men’s wounds or to stop blaming men individually and collectively, fairly or not. Men have something to say to other men about male privilege and the male-dominated, male-centered, male-identified system that underlies and enforces it3.
Johnson goes on to say that the path of least resistance in a male-centered system is for men to focus on themselves as victims. He sees this tendency in the mythopoetic men’s movement that is most closely associated with the work of Robert Bly, Sam Keen, and other Jungian-inspired writers and activists.
Intense individualism, combined with denial that patriarchy even exists, backs the mythopoetic men’s movement into a corner from which it invariably looks for someone to blame for men’s pain and loss. More often than not, anger and resentment are directed towards women… Men come out as victims at the mercy of women and a range of social forces. Apparently, male dominance isn’t a privilege but only a burden men must carry… Although the mythopoetic men’s movement claims to have no political agenda, in effect it is profoundly political in its denial of patriarchy and the need to take responsibility for it.4
3 Johnson G., Allan. “Can Men Take Responsibility for Patriarchy?” Ms. Vol. VIII, No.3, November/December 1997, p. 62. 4 Ibid., p. 64.
206
I believe that men need to use their male privilege by bringing up the issue of patriarchy themselves. One way to do that would be to start noticing and processing the opposition within themselves, and doing their own inner work and relationship work with one another.
As I have mentioned before, men know within themselves the experience women have of being put down, for the same system makes them put down in themselves and one another the qualities and traits they put down in women. When men feel threatened or criticized by the world around them, they could consider the possibility that the danger they feel coming from the outside is inside too. The fear comes from within them, for they are partially aware of what they have been doing and are against how their fathers, brothers, and they are.
If men were to connect with their own criticism of themselves and one another, find the voice within them that says that men cannot just let go and do what they want because that can hurt people, they would be reacting against patriarchy thus relieving women from having to react. One could say that the outside world does that to them because men don’t do that enough with one another.
Often women’s and men’s groups become one-sided and turn against the other gender, bringing themselves back into a male/female polarity. Here I want to remind us about the diversity of genders beyond the simplistic division into two genders. This polarization, though often a necessary beginning, is not enough to create sustainable community. We need to be able to see that we contain “the other” within ourselves, that we are both needed parts of the whole. In some small way we are on the same side, for the interaction is not just between people, but between roles in our community.
We need to create public forums where we can focus on the atmosphere between us, ask ourselves what we feel, bring out what hasn’t been said. In such forums, we can make space for the diversity that exists among us to come forward, help all the parts express themselves and interact. We can bring the feeling that each and every part is crucial to creating a community that is a good place to be, that each voice is a needed and valued part of the whole and of ourselves. Mindell calls this attitude “deep democracy”5.
We need to start noticing the patriarchal attitudes that are ingrained in us. Men need to do it for themselves; women need to do it for themselves. We need to notice the hurt these attitudes creates between us, and help one another process it, instead of letting it go underground and cycle into revenge.
5 Mindell, Arny. Sitting in the Fire: Large Group Transformation Using Conflict and Diversity. Lao Tse Press, 1995, p 176.
207
As Mindell says,
The fire that burns in the social, psychological and spiritual dimensions of humanity can ruin the world. Or this fire can transform trouble into community. It is up to us. We can avoid contention, or we can fearlessly sit in the fire, intervene and prevent world history’s most painful errors from being repeated.6
My experience of having participated in numerous group processes during classes, community meetings, open city forums, and worldwork seminars7 around the world, tells me that we need to step into the fire and sit there with one another, for it is through this process that community arises.
What joy it would be if I have inspired you to jump in!
6 Ibid., p.12. 7 The “worldwork seminars”, organized by the Global Process Institute in Portland, Oregon, USA, are international forums where people come together to focus on and work with social, environmental and political issues using group process skills.
208
Epilogue
hat we throw away doesn’t just disappear; it lands through our projections W on other people. We marginalize parts of ourselves that don’t go along with our identities, which are an outcome of our personal histories - our interactions with our families, communities, cultures, and religions - and project these parts on other people who we then marginalize. White people, for example, with a strict moral religious background that marginalizes sexuality, often project their sexuality onto people of color and the gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and transsexual communities.
In this sense, these parts of us, the qualities, the energies that we reject feed sexism, racism, homophobia, ageism, anti-Semitism, and every other “ism”. Thus inner work is worldwork. The personal is political. The more we work on our edges to the disavowed parts of ourselves, i.e., the more we open up to the diversity within us, the more we take back our projections, the less we marginalize others.
Outer work – systemic changes, social action, large group work, relationship work - needs to be combined with inner work for it is, in part, our collective inner work that changes history, cultures, the world.
209 Epilogue 2
March 2000 During the revision
This poem emerged a few nights ago. Thinking about the process of its emergence it suddenly became clear to me how the outside world is a mirror, always there, available to us to look and discover ourselves waiting to be discovered. The mirror is out there. The question for me is, will I follow my curiosity and look?!
The emergence of her devouring nature
Esmeralda and Consuela were both attracted to Stardust. The attraction was mutual between Consuela and Stardust and the two of them were exploring things, while Esmeralda was trying to let go.
One night, in a gathering, Consuela read a poem a friend had asked her to read that had in it the phrase “I want to eat you up, only to spit you out and start over again.” Consuela put in that phrase all her desire for Stardust and highlighted the words by pointing her finger straight at Stardust who was sitting in the audience! This made Esmeralda burn! She was so jealous that the two of them had that; that Stardust was open to receiving Consuela’s desire, which mirrored Stardust’s own.
Then, a few weeks later one day, while hanging out with the mermaid, Esmeralda discovered an energy in her that devoured everything. She let herself really go into it and started devouring the mermaid when suddenly that phrase popped into her mind! “I want to eat you up, only to spit you out, and start over again!” she growled at the mermaid biting into her! Esmeralda told the mermaid the story and in the end said, “This is what I wasn’t allowed to do!” “Why not?” asked the mermaid. “How many time does Stardust have to say No!?” replied Esmeralda. “Oh! It’s Stardust who doesn’t allow it! exclaimed the mermaid and kept repeating “Stardust! Stardust!” till Esmeralda got it! She was stopping herself from being her devouring nature! She was both Stardust and Consuela!
That dusk Esmeralda went home, lit her candles, and let her devouring nature emerge.
210 My blackness*
I want to EAT you up only to SPIT you out and START OVER again
So here I go! mmmmmm…. mmmm……. Ugh…
Slurp Slurp Slurp Slurp
Uchhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
I got you pinned to the floor
You’re MINE!
Start licking you up Kissing Biting Shaking Flesh and bones between my teeth
You’re MINE!
Undress you fully Ugh… piece by piece tantalizingly slow lay my body on top of yours let go and breath breath my face in yours breathing you in breathing me out in out in out in out
* This poem is full of expressions from Carl Hancock Rux’s CD titled “rux revue”. His words have crept into my mind and possessed it! The beginning verse is from a poem written by Sonja Saltman titled “Wanting”. The highlights are mine.
211
fingers lost in the jungle hidden in the roots of your hair lost in a newly found world! Where am I? I don’t ever wanna be found… hands travel up and down my back bringing me in closer and closer and closer my lips on your lips exploring tongue licking lips kissing licking kissing teeth biting gently this time, very gently tongue goes in is joined a dance begins a meeting a wrestling
My! My! We’re alive!
Rolling over and over I’m up down up down up down going down down down into the valley my valley
YES! YES! YES!
212
Going up up up up up up dancing to the rhythm of our heartbeats going we keep going into territories unknown dancing to our heartbeats frantically dancing go go go go go to the stars and beyond go go to where no one has gone before go go burning exploding dissolving star dust nothingness blackness blackness
MY blackness
I’m back Are you ready?
213 Bibliography
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215 Books
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218
Schwalbe, Michael. Unlocking the Iron Cage: The Men’s Movement, Gender Politics, and American Culture. New York: Meridian, 1989.
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Manuscripts
Dworkin, Jan. “Group Process Work: A Stage for Personal and Global Development.” Diss. Union Institute, 1989.
Summers, Gemma. “Gateway to Community. Process-Oriented Conflict Resolution: An Interview With Founder Arnold Mindell”. Diss. Union Institue, 1994.
Vassiliou, Alexandra, “Listen or Die: the Terrorist as a Role.” Diss. Union Institute, 1995.
Web Sites
Britannica Online: http://www.eb.com Feminist Majority Online: http://www.feminist.org Frontline: http://www.pbs.org/frontline Lao Tse Press: http://www.laotse.com Men’s Index: http://www.vix.com/men/index.html National Organization for Women: http://www.now.org Men’s Network for Change: http://infoweb.magi.com/~Emensnet Process Work Center of Portland: http://www.processwork.org
219 Illustration Credits
1. Baba Yaga Itch. Artwork by Cristie O’Connor, 1993. 2. Greece. Illustration Britannica Online. http://www.eb.com:GREECE 3. The Dissolution of the Ottoman Empire. "Illustration" Britannica Online. http://www.eb.com:180/cgi-bin/g?DocF=cap/aturkan007m4.html 4. The Ottoman Empire - detail. "Illustration" Britannica Online. http://www.eb.com:180/cgi-bin/g?.html 5. Cyprus. Illustration, Britannica Online. http://www.eb.com:180/cgi- bin/g?DocF=mapdocs/ocyprus001m4.html 6. Seagulls over water. © Pierre Couteau. Editions Mantzios. 7. Basil. © Editions Fotorama. 8. Wildflower. © Editions Fotorama. 9. Door. © Editions Fotorama. 10. Daisies. © Editions Fotorama. 11. Old man from Lesvos. © Editions D. Haitalis. 12. Old woman from Lesvos. © Editions D. Haitalis. 13. Women sitting outside. © Adam Editions. 14. Men at the coffee shop. Printed in Greece. 15. Old couple walking. © Editions M. Toubis S.A. 16. Kids. © Pierre Couteau. Editions Mantzios. 17. Woman walking next to the donkey. © Pierre Couteau. Editions Mantzios. 18. Caique leaving the harbor. © Editions M. Toubis S.A. 19. Fishermen on board. © Editions Techni. 20. Fishermen on land. © Editions Techni. 21. Woman with her goat. © Editions M. Toubis S.A. 22. Priests whispering. © Editions M. Toubis S.A. 23. Monk. © Pierre Couteau. Editions Mantzios. 24. Church interior. © Pierre Couteau. Editions Mantzios. 25. Sunset in Oia, Sandorini. © Editions M. Toubis S.A. 26. Sunrise in Athens. © Editions D. Haitalis. 27. Parakoila, Lesvos. Picture taken by Lily Vassiliou. 28. Eagle. Detail of a Peruvian Rug. Picture taken by Lily Vassiliou. 29. Artwork by Lily Vassiliou and Jan Dworkin. 30. The Woman In the Tree Is Me. Artwork by Melissa Harris. 31. Cancer cells. Artwork by Lily Vassiliou. 32. Lover on my back. Artwork by Lily Vassiliou. 33. Body Image. Artwork by Lily Vassiliou.
220 Appendix
Extracts of a Secret Service File taken from Aris Fakinos’ book, Stolen Life. Kastaniotis, 1996.
“Special Branch of Criminal Investigation Department of Athens-Piraeus 4th Office, Department 1 Register Number 14/669/912 To: Ministry of Public Order, Division of National Security Athens, October 6, 1961 Subject: “Summary surveillance report of branded communist Anestis Mandakas and his wife Dionisia, née Tavoulari.”
In response to your document of 9/19/61, we have the honor to send you attached the summary surveillance report of branded communist Anestis Mandakas and his wife Dionisia, née Tavoulari, from October 1951 to today.
Konstadakis Dimitrios Lieutenant-Colonel, Chief
“February 15, 1952. Anestis Mandakas presented himself in due time. (Many people had to report every month to the secret service after they were released from prison.) From our hitherto surveillance no new evidence turned up. So far, Anestis Mandakas and his wife are living a life that is nationally and socially non- reprehensible.
March 20, 1952. Anestis Mandakas presented himself in due time. There was a meeting of Anesti Mandaka and a person of unknown identity at the Holy Church of Saint Pandeleimona. It is guessed that this person was being held with Mandaka in Makronisos (this is one of the islands where people were jailed in exile) or elsewhere.”
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