Putting on my Armor for Debate Night
We all have items of clothing, make up, boots, high heels, bad ass jackets that become our armor for facing the world. Mine? Mine is making magic on my eyes.
My Mom was a Mary Kay lady to help with money when I was young, I’ve been playing with makeup for as long as I can remember. I dislike how lipstick feels on my lips, blush and highlighting is fun, but eye shadow and eyeliner has been my playground. A specialty. One of the few ways I express my creativity beyond my words.
Urban Decay is my brand of choice, over my lifetime I’ve probably spent more than you’d need for a new compact car, and I have no regrets. For over the years my eye makeup has become my armor. It has been a tool I’ve used to make myself feel stronger, more beautiful, more fierce, more capable. If I can master symmetrical winged liquid eyeliner? Obviously, I can do anything.
So, this morning I pulled out my palettes and carefully applied my mask of armor. Working slowly on my creation of rainbows and sparkle, knowing at the end of the day I’d be facing the debate — the debate and the horrors it will bring — knowing I didn’t want to cry.
I don’t want to cry tonight, even though I know I will deeply feel however Trump justifies his actions. Knowing that each dismissal and insult leveled at the brave women who have come out against him will also feel like a dismissal and insult directly at me. I know I will feel the gaslighting personally. I will feel it all.
Feel it all.
Hopefully I will also feel strength from Hillary. Hopefully I will cheer when she demolishes him by actually understanding how the world fucking works. Hopefully I will feel defended if/when she defends women.
Hopefully.
So I am bracing for the scorched earth, unsure how horrible it will be. For it will be incredibly horrible for me.
There are more assaults in my history than I can count. I push them down, push them away, change the details in my mind so that the memory is less painful. Make excuses and justifications because if I felt each and every one of them for what they were, I don’t think I could function. I would be completely paralyzed by the totality of violation.
I also have had a period of healing that I am feeling backsliding away from me, the return of pain, anger, fear without a name to place on it, trouble sleeping with tortured dreams. I am quick to feel offense, I am quick to anger.
In fight or flight? I flee. My body doesn’t allow for such things, which is probably a blessing in this case, but I want to run. Just go out the door and run. Where to? No idea. Just run till it doesn’t hurt anymore. Run to a place that doesn’t exist.
Watching the men and masculine folks around me not get it. Dismiss the words, dismiss the accusers, dismiss the “political stunt”. “It’s just politics, you’re being too sensitive.”
“It’s just politics”
I cannot fathom that response. Suppose it comes from the fact that most of them do not live in fear of how their body is legislated. How agency and autonomy can be stripped away with a few pen strokes. How my nipples are shameful and others are not. My body is political. My freedom is political. My survival is political.
Of course I say those things as a cis white woman, and all of the great privilege that I have. Those who don’t look like me have the above, tenfold, with a history of pain I cannot fathom. I send my love to them.
Less than an hour until the debate begins and I am finishing my armor. I have art on my eyes that I don’t want to ruin with tears. The clothing on my body makes me feel cute and comfortable. My computer, where I will soon be tweeting on madly, is covered in rainbows.
Ice water just passed my lips, I have more next to me for when I need to feel something and regain connection to my body. Moments ago I stepped out onto my back deck to stretch, breathe, and take in the stars. Look deeply at the moon. Connecting with that which makes me feel strong.
I feel prepared. As prepared as I can possibly be.
Love to you reader, whoever and where ever you are. I hope that your armor helps the next time it is needed. The world hurts, so I try to send out love.
