We Bet On Ourselves, We Bet on Us
September Events Recap
At BGW events, some kind of reciprocal alchemy happens. We each bet on ourselves, enough to show up for our own wellbeing. This is its own quiet defiance. We’re taught not to put ourselves first, and we’re taught not to trust each other enough to move together. We do both anyway. And in doing that together, we put a value on our shared time. We breathe together, and we shift from our default ways of reacting to everything the world throws at us, to something more steady and intentional, our body’s remembering cutting through the amnesia of our busied routines. From this place, we can access more spaciousness and expansiveness.
In this process, we create enough safety to anchor each other in a different kind of presence: deep connection, deep listening. Here, each of us arrives at our own learning. But as women share their experiences in dialogue, one person’s share grows into another’s awakened knowing, creating a shared sense of being witnessed and cared for, each woman, co-teachers and co-learners. And often, we arrive at learnings bigger than any one of us: collective wisdom.
Two Women, Two Birthday Wisdoms
One woman shared something vulnerable: it was her child’s birthday, and she chose to celebrate herself first, in community. She was surprised by her own instinct to do that, and it also happened to be her one-year anniversary of showing up to BGW events. Yoga, the practice of connecting with her own breath, body, and spirit, was the gift she gave herself first.
So often, we prioritize, care for, and celebrate who and what we’ve birthed, or are birthing, over ourselves as the ones show up and birthing. We also deserve care and celebration. We deserve to be celebrated not only for what we create, but for who we are when we are creating nothing at all.
At yoga, we read a poem that says this better than we can: “We Are Worthy” by Elandria Williams, a local leader and ancestor.
We are worthy
Not because of what we produce
But because of who we are…
Carry It With You:
Read “We Are Worthy” once a day this week, out loud if you can. Let it be a reminder, from you to you, that you are whole just because.
Another woman shared about an upcoming milestone birthday, and what it’s taught her about knowing herself, solidified in her Black womanhood. There are times it’s scary, and you show up anyway, allowing yourself to be in your skin completely. This way of being was an unsettling concept before. But now we are all more sure than ever about who we are when we look in the mirror.
That kind of certainty doesn’t get built alone. It gets forged in the mirror of another Black woman’s gaze, and it gets steadier every time we see another woman practice and our spirit, without hesitation, shouts YASS! or ASHE! in support of her worthiness to show up solid and whole.
Practicing together leaves us more solid, more connected, more celebrated.
Carry It With You:
Recall a time you showed up as your full self. Pull it up with all your senses. Where were you? Who was there? What did your body feel like? What helped?
Now think of a moment that feels scary to show up that way. If it feels safe enough, ask what small piece of what helped might be worth trying there. If it doesn’t feel safe, let that be important information too. And most importantly, keep close the memory of showing up as your full self. It’s your true image and birthright, even when it isn’t safe enough to show in every space.
Our Own Space, Our Own Medicine
The group kept coming back to the preciousness of simply having a space for just US: a simple and profound gift, and a troubling question.
“Why is it that sometimes we can’t just have our own spaces? They get taken and reconfigured to fit the ‘everyone’ model.”
There wasn't a clean answer. But a question from our Tai Chi gathering felt related. Wasentha Young of Peaceful Dragon School opened with the word "asylum," a place of safety, refuge, and peace, and asked us: How are we protecting our asylum? She reminded us that we can create safety, not only within ourselves, but within community. [Keep an eye out for our next blog, where we'll go deeper into what we've been learning with Wasentha through Tai Chi and Qigong.]
Langston Hughes's poem "The Dream Keeper" points in the same direction. It isn't a complete solution either, but it speaks to an invitation to intentional refuge:
Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamers.
Bring me all of your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too rough fingers
Of the world.
That's what a space for just US can be. It's exactly why this matters so much. Village, our togetherness, is a deeply felt need and gift worth cultivating and protecting.
We thanked each other, and gave value to whatever each of us experienced on the mat. We moved our bodies. We fell asleep on the mat. We felt the breeze and quiet of the farm, and kept nourishing ourselves with wholesome food.
The secret ingredient, we think, was trusting that betting on our wholeness was never a threat to our togetherness, and that betting on each other was never a threat to our wholeness. Maybe that’s the alchemy: ancient African wisdom, made new again in a circle of women in Ypsilanti.
Carry It With You:
Choose one this season:
Option 1: Find someone to share with vulnerably. Tell her what you’re learning and what you’re still trying to figure out. Then ask what she’s learning.
Option 2: Tell someone one thing you’ve learned from watching her show up. Let her know she’s been a teacher to you. Most of us never find out what we’ve given.