Daring To Be Powerful

Back when I was a young feminist, a nascent poet/writer/editor, a poetry performer long before such events were called slams, one of the women I admired hugely was Audre Lorde.  Her collection of essays, Sister Outsider, became one of my favorite references and touchstones.  Living in Boston, I had the great joy and privilege of seeing her perform on a number of occasions, at places like the fabulous Arlington Street Church, that Boston institution founded to exist as a hotbed of progressive thought, spirituality and social justice.  Indeed, it was in the basement coffeehouse of that esteemed building that I performed my own poetry.  I saw Audre upstairs, in the big, beautiful church itself, among a packed house of feminists, poets, writers and activists who, in the 1970’s and ’80’s, who were endeavoring to be loud and proud, and to redefine the experience of women.  Audre Lorde was already an icon on so many levels.  She was a woman, a black woman, a lesbian, a feminist, a gifted poet, a passionate activist.  She wrote and spoke out about racism, sexism, classism, homophobia and social inequality with enormous wisdom and eloquence.

And then Audre Lorde was diagnosed with breast cancer.  And as was her wont, she wrote a journal during her experience.  Published in 1980, The Cancer Journals was one of the first works of its kind.  Published four years after Betty Rollins’ ground-breaking book, First, You Cry, Lorde’s book examines the notion of cancer survival to consider the political implications of breast cancer and breast cancer surgery, analyzing the ways that prostheses and plastic surgery hide the real experience of breast cancer, disguising its widespread incidence and deadliness, while emphasizing the notion of trying to restore ourselves to some socially acceptable notion of “normal” femininity.

Here we are, some thirty years later, and breast cancer awareness seems to be smothered in pink.  Not only our identity as women, but the reality of our disease is muffled by myth, misinformation, and research priorities that still don’t adequately address the twin constants of incidence and mortality that have remained unchanged since Lorde wrote her journal.  Perhaps more than any other type of cancer, breast cancer challenges our social and personal notions of female identity.  Its treatment robs us of so many of the physical icons of feminity — our hair, our breasts, our female hormones, even sometimes our ovaries and wombs.  Meanwhile plastic surgeons offer reconstructive surgeries that can involve procedures often taking well over ten hours to perform, initiating a process that may take years to complete, so that we can have insensate tissue to replace part of what we’ve lost.  And after all that, breast cancer may still recur or metasticize, in the end robbing us of our lives.

Those of us who try to speak out about the crazy and unacceptable implications of all this may find ourselves accused of being negative, humorless harpies who focus too much wrath at the color pink and have nothing good to say about virtually any part of our current breast cancer awareness movement.  It’s difficult for people, whose intentions may be sincere, to be receptive to rethinking their cherished, comforting notions, to have someone suggest that their efforts may be misdirected or even futile.  We all need some measure of hope to exist.  But hope based on false assumptions does not ultimately change or improve the prognosis for women and men with breast cancer.

“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.” — Audre Lorde

Just when I feel defeated, when I feel the message to redirect the pink behemoth of breast cancer awareness is simply not getting through to the people who need to hear it the most, I come upon someone like Tania Katan.  Her memoir, My One-night Stand With Cancer, is a funny and ruthlessly honest account of her own experience with breast cancer.  Today, a friend posted a link to Katan’s recent TED Talk, which I’ve posted below.  In it, she refers to a quote from Audre Lorde’s poem “A Litany for Survival”, from The Black Unicorn: Poems, as her inspiration and guide to speaking out about the reality of the disease.  If you’ve ever “run for the cure,” or been tempted to, or questioned the point of such an event, you’ll want to watch this video:

Decades ago, while I still felt imbued with youth, half-convinced of my immortality, I saw and heard Audre Lorde herself declaim the poem from which Tania Katan quotes.  It was a thunderously moving experience.  And I think a fitting way to end this post is to provide the entire text:

A Litany for Survival

For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.
— Audre Lorde


The title of this post was inspired by another quote from Audre Lorde: “When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.” Audre Lorde died of cancer in 1992.


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This entry was written by Kathi, posted on Saturday, May 21, 2011 at 07:05 pm, filed under Art & Music, Attitude, Fighting the Pink Peril, Life & Mortality, Making A Difference, Nitty Gritty, Survivorship and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink . Post a comment below or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

14 Responses to “Daring To Be Powerful”

  1. That’s a fabulous poem. I wrote about The Cancer Journals a few months ago and got a lot of dissent from the comments. In all honesty, I have a hard time relating to her world. I’m not trying to criticize her for that, I am saying that while so much needs to be done, a lot about our society has changed. More importantly, she and I had few common experiences. I do, however, have great respect for her. In particular, I love this line: Your silence will not protect you.

    Thanks for writing this. Really beautiful and inspiring, Kathi.

    Katie

  2. It’s amazing to think of how different the world was back then. I’m grateful we’re not still stuck in that time. The society from which Lorde was writing was worlds apart from the one we write from now — thank heaven — in terms of society, racism, homophobia, sexism and breast cancer & its treatment. She had a lot on her plate, that’s for sure. What’s disturbing is how much has not changed. But that’s what we’re doing here, Katie, trying to shake it up. And I guess I’m just an old shaker-upper. 😉

  3. Kathi,

    I totally believe that I am the beneficiary of the struggles of Lorde’s generation. I am wildly grateful and try to point that out because so many people forget about gratitude.

    Imagine if Lorde had the blogosphere…

    Katie

  4. A lot of us are are beneficiary’s of her generation, which was just before mine, sort of my big sisters. Sometimes I forget what I got up to myself back then, but I’m proud of all the things I got involved in — reproductive rights, equal pay for equal work, the Equal Rights Amendment, women’s health, so many things. There was never a lack of stuff to work on, that’s for sure. When I was in the 9th grade, I wasn’t “allowed” to take mechanical drawing, because only boys became engineers & architects…and the course was taught by a nun!!! Amazing…

  5. Kathi, I just love that poem. Thanks for sharing.

    Back in 1976 I was one of the few women patent attorneys in the United States. Now there are many more. But at the time I felt like a pioneer. And that’s how I feel about getting breast cancer in the mid-1990’s, this time as an unwilling pioneer dragged into the arena of chemo and radiation (male) gladiators. So I am glad to read the writings of other women like you who’ve made a difference in an era when women were to be seen (with lust) but not heard.
    XOXOXO,
    Jan

  6. Such an incredible poem and one I can relate to on so many levels. “for those of us who cannot indulge the passing dreams of choice” …… Wow. Honestly I keep hearing about how much has changed in the breast cancer realm but frankly I wonder sometimes. Yes we talk about breast cancer but only in the terms set by the predominant pink culture. Try to inject some truth and science into the discussion and iinvariably the response is one of anger or refusal to entertain. Many just don’t want to hear information that is challenging and confronting. I see a lot of denial, all wrapped up in a pink feather boa. But I agree with Audre. What’s the point in remaining silent? It just gets us nowhere fast.

  7. silence? naw…. I got my OWN ideas.
    xo
    Dorry

  8. Love this post Kathi, thanks. Audre Lorde has been and continues to be an inspiration to me on many levels…. I have a draft blog piece half written about her and this has prompted to me to dust it off and get it out in the world!
    Imagine if Audre had been around to witness the pinking of breast cancer…. wow…. we have to do that job for her. Like AnnaR says – no point in silence.

  9. I love this piece, Kathi! Audre Lorde was indeed a #cancerrebel! Lucky for us her words continue to break through.

    I wrote about Lorde’s impact in Pink Ribbon Blues: “For Lorde, it is the truthful telling of all kinds of stories that matters, not only those accepted in the broader culture. Her goal is not to construct a singular Truth, such as the story of the triumphant survivor, but to create opportunities for women to seek out and examine a diversity of stories and consider their relevance to their lives.” Here is a brief excerpt.

    http://gaylesulik.com/?p=3126

  10. […] In Daring to Be Powerful, The Accidental Amazon reflects on contemporary breast cancer awareness. “Smothered in pink…Not only our identity as women, but the reality of our disease…muffled by myth, misinformation, and research priorities that still don’t adequately address the twin constants of incidence and mortality.” Share with friends: […]

  11. Great post, Kathi. Sometimes I get a little frustrated because it seems like some women don’t understand and appreciate how long it took to make progresss regarding women’s rights and all that. To me that’s a facet of why the pink ribbon stuff fails women. I think we have come a long way, but at times it seems as if we are taking steps backward. And the poem, it’s perfect. Keep on not being silent!

  12. […] and emptiness of symbolism, and the realities of living and dying with the pink ribbon disease. In “Daring to be Powerful” Kolb describes the influence of feminist author and activist Audre Lorde, and the legacy she left […]

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  14. […] and emptiness of symbolism, and the realities of living and dying with the pink ribbon disease. In “Daring to be Powerful” Kathi described the influence of feminist author and activist Audre Lorde, and the legacy she left […]

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