It’s time to start worshiping women.
For many years, and sometimes even still, I’ve worshiped men. With four brothers, one of whom was my twin, I wanted nothing more than to be one of the guys. There were obvious reasons for this: they were stronger, more daring and seemed to fit into the world better. But, this wasn’t always the case.
When we were very young, I was the brave one. My twin did not speak; I spoke for him. There was no greater pride for me than being his protector, showing him the way — climbing high and wrangling snakes, talking to strangers or navigating the unknown when he was too shy or full of fear.
I knew, even then, that we were stronger together. United, we stood against my older brother, who naturally felt dethroned at our birth, and tormented us from that day forth. My courage was contingent though. On feeling and knowing I was safe.
My older brother injured my twin in a very substantial and lasting way when we were only five. My parents said there was blame on all sides. In one instant, I knew I could protect no one and that the world was not fair.
In the years that followed, I watched my twin disappear, sometimes slowly and sometimes with great and intense despair. Now, with my adult brain (and many years of therapy), I know that he was dealing with grief and loss in his own way, with a child’s mind. And, he never made it out; perhaps he was never meant to survive, a casualty of too many kids born to parents too young with not enough money or time or the capacity to truly love.
We cannot fault the minds of five year olds; they do not have the capacity to deal with this kind of grief on their own. That doesn’t mean I don’t think back on that moment all the time.
When I chose to follow the perpetrator instead of standing by the victim.
It seemed as though my older brother could do no wrong. He was immune from real consequences, even at a young age. And, so I switched sides. I’m not sure I’ve ever forgiven myself. Perhaps my twin would have had a chance had I stuck by him instead. But, I was a kid and I did not want to feel vulnerable.
I spent the remainder of my childhood worshiping this power-drunk little man. And, like any abusive relationship, it only confused me more. I would do anything — literally anything — for him and yet he never reciprocated. He’d betray my loyalty by telling my parents I had lied. To protect him. But that didn’t matter; I was the one who lied, they’d say. He’d use me, put me in danger and abuse me. But, somehow it was always my fault.
When we were in our early teens, he took this power and used it to denigrate me. In a way from which I’ve never truly recovered. But, still it didn’t matter. I’d do anything to get his approval, even though it never came. In my twisted mind I thought that if I could just get him to like me, I’d finally be safe. First in my family and then in the world.
Childhood is a fantasy, even if a terribly tragic one.
As an adult, my worship of men continued. It did not matter that I was smart and driven, capable even; it only mattered if I was wanted by a man. I looked for praise, affection and attention, calling it love and grasping onto it desperately. It wasn’t until I was 30 that I realized I even had the right to say no. To anything a man suggested.
Life has a way of balancing the scales. At least if we pay attention and ask for help. I might not always get it right these days, but after years of work and introspection (and many MANY heartaches) I know now that a man cannot make me feel safe. No one can.
Safety and security — the stability I seek — resides within me. But, that doesn’t mean I can do it alone.
Over the past five years, I’ve come to appreciate the women in this world. I can’t quite say that I worship them in the same way that I was drawn to a man, but I have learned more about what makes community and how to love by watching women. And, every time I do, I am rewarded with a feeling of awe and contentment unlike anything I’ve ever known.
Out of the wreckage, a new life is born.
The organization I’ve worked hard to create (and in many ways, feel destined to lead), My Warrior Woman, will be launching publicly soon. And, as a way of honoring those women who have given me back the strength and courage I had as a five year old little girl, I will be sharing some of their stories over the coming days. Along with an opportunity for you to do the same.
