On Friday night, I got a text from my best
friend Robyn. Her program, the Advocate Program at
Crisis Services in Buffalo , NY
All morning, I kept referring to my mental
note: Be at the corner at 1:00.
We always run time down to fumes on the weekend. At 12:46, Princess Commando
stood on the porch and shouted, "They’re already here!" I grabbed The
Baby, charging to the corner- a chicken sandwich sloshing around in my stomach.
When I saw the police escort- inching up the rear, my heart sank realizing we
missed them.
I am not a runner. My legs are too short,
my bladder too weak. But, I wanted to find Robyn and give her a hug. I am so
proud of the work that she does.
"Screw it," I said grabbing
Princess Commado's hand. "Let's run!"
Princess in her slippery, wornout Crocs and
me-in my flimsy, insensible shoes- The Baby's weight a hellfire in my biceps-
ran down the sidewalk to see if we could find Robyn.
"There!" I pointed to a man standing
head and shoulders above the rest. It was Robyn's husband Ehren with their 4
year old daughter straddling his shoulders. We wove into the crowd to join them.
"Where did you guys come from?"
he asked surprised to see us.
Panting and pointing behind me,
"Wanted to cheer you on."
We had only planned on spectating as we
had so many times before during events down this main thoroughfare. I felt
awkward insinuating myself into the crowd. But, Ehren- along with Robyn's
parents- encouraged us. And I was so happy that I did not give into the fear of
peeing my pants. The pride at being a part of something greater than herself
was evident on Princess Commando's face. She pointed out the handmade signs
children her age carried, 'Speak Out,' 'Unite Against Violence,' 'It's time to
practice consent.' She knew a little about the nature of Robyn’s work and understood
the importance of solidarity. But she was most impressed with the men in
heels. Not only were their shoes dazzling but they carried themselves with such
grace, breezily gliding across the pavement. Every race, gender, age,
sexual orientation moved in unison creating a warm current of awareness and hope
down the avenue.
For me, walking under the shelter of
community- of confluence for the common good- refreshed the waters of my
psyche. I have been in a jam
of cloudy feelings, lost in my own head -figuring out where I want my
writing and illustrating to go. In my hunger for answers- I had become
self-centered. Despite not feeling grounded and at the same time too anchored
to the ground, the fellowship I felt in my neighborhood this weekend inspired
thoughtfulness toward others and renewed my faith in mankind.
We are better, we do better, we know
better when we participate rather than spectate. Saturday’s impromptu
engagement- a special moment shared with my girls, my best friend's family and
hundreds of strangers- made me realize that for all of the moments I have been
anxious around people, there are also moments of unexpected joy that come from
communion with others. We did not Walk a Mile
in Her Shoes- just a 1/4 mile. But at the end of it, I was able to wrap my arms
around my amazing friend- grateful for those whose life work is to make the
world a better place with each step and stride.
Click here for photos from the event taken by The Men's Group. There is a photo of me and the girls on the second page. See if you can spot us. I'm sure you'll recognize The Baby right away.
*From the Crisis
Services website: 'Each year, an ever-increasing number of men,
women and their families are joining Walk a Mile in Her Shoes®:
The International Men's March to Stop Rape, Sexual Assault & Gender
Violence. Walk a Mile in Her Shoes is a fun opportunity for men to take a stand
with women as allies, raise awareness, and rally the community to take action
to prevent sexualized violence
How wonderful to see humanity come together for the common good, very moving and great you were a part of it.
ReplyDelete