I used to doodle poetry in the margins of my college-ruled notebook paper when I was in elementary school.  Then in middle school I felt like margins were a waste of space and money, so I started ignoring the little faded magenta line and writing from the way-too-perfect cut on one side until my words fell off the other end of the page.  My teachers didn’t like this.  In most cases it resulted in a forced re-do, and in my Advanced English class it affected a few grades until finally I returned to forced status quo conformity.

In life, that isn’t always an option.  I can’t change my gender.  What is in my pants puts me in the margin of our society which, despite attempts at advancement and fancy lip service, still operates by patriarchy or in plain English the ‘Good Old Boy System’.  If you dispute this, look at politics and paychecks.  Where your heart is, there your treasure lies.  Power and wealth still rest firmly in the hands of men.  I can’t change the shade of my skin or that of my children, nor do I want to.  We are not currently a part of the majority in this country, though in the winding lineage of all three of us a few of our fine lines weave white, more of them have unique untraceable colors like those new shades of Crayola such as tumbleweed or mauvelous.  All my life my olive complexion and curly hair have created a buzz of curiosity around me over my origins: Is she mixed? Are you Jewish? What is that girl? Where are your parents from?  Is she Indian? Is your hair naturally that curly?  The inquisition has variations but you get the drift.

The point is, both on paper, in the virtual almost-world and in realfeel life, what’s going on in the margins is important.  What’s going on in the margins has to make its way into the center or truth becomes linear instead of circular-and that’s not the way progress or unity work. It’s not the way time, space, DNA or community work, either.  We wrap around each other, swirling into a symphony of truth and understanding, blending into and out of our minds and experiences, realities both seen and unseen.  Too many voices, stories, families, communities and lives are left in the margins of our current social norms and never get examined, much less accepted.

Women are not just subjects sexualized and then silenced.  Multiracial families are not just commodities to bring diversity to the college, firm, country club or church.  They are a part of humanity, not trophies for a display case.  Not every couple who gets pregnant found Mr. or Mrs. Right first.  And when they choose “no” to abortion, they don’t automatically choose a marriage certificate.  It’s funny that the same pro-lifers that scream the loudest have no involvement, or even outright disdain, for those children they fight so hard to save.  These marginalized children deserve the same love and acceptance in school, and if you teach hate and segregation at home then send your child to public school, they mimic your behavior through bullying and exclusion.

The occupants of this world are cruel with word and action, but there is another way.  We can embrace all that written word and vibrant life in the margins.  Learning to love what is different from us expands our ability to appreciate our own families and lives.  It gives us new friends and births new experiences.

My margins read like this:  I am a woman.  I have never been married.  I have two children with a man I love and have been in love with.  I left that man.  We don’t live together.  I still want my children to have their dad in their lives no matter what.  On any given day I may like or hate him, but I still want to respect him as the other half of what makes our babies who they are-amazing and inspiring.  I love to write and dream.  I will never stop either.  My roar is my own.

Don’t conform to what the cacophony of voices keeps screaming.  Seek peace and pursue it perpetually.  Love yourself and all your experiences because they make you who you are.  Love everyone regardless of their lifestyle.   Tell your story while you can because you are the only one who will.  Don’t get so busy you forget to take care of yourself.  Take at least an hour every day to do something you love.  This is what I love-writing about the margin-where I live.


~ by yomawrites on June 20, 2012.

One Response to “DISCOVERY”

  1. […] you have read my article “DISCOVERY”, then you already know that I have never married.  Unmarried co-parents make up a large, silent […]

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