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• Resilience is thrust on the body of a woman, not chosen.
I do not want to be wished strength, I do not want to be admired for it.
So many, too many women find themselves here too. Our relationship with resilience is as exhausting as survivorship itself. Strength framed as endless endurance of pain.
So please, don’t admire me for how strong you think I am.
I am human. I break. I fall apart. I feel desperation. Hunger. The wreckage of old wounds and new ones too. I see more clearly when the neglect is present, when avoidance is practiced. These are collective perpetrations. They are lodged in the pattern of societal DNA. They craft strength as a burial of wounds, a cut to faux resurrection without grief’s recognition.
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