Un Practicum Participant Post #3

by Michelle Zebrowski
Throughout my life I have been placed and have placed myself in safe spaces and unsafe spaces. Some of which posed a threat to my physical safety, others my intellectual, emotional, and spiritual safety. Because I am a white, educated, economically comfortable, able-bodied, documented, never-incarcerated, assumed hetero "American" woman, I have had the luxury of moving in and out of these spaces without much consideration. This privilege has afforded me the ignorant opportunity to make assumptions about my own and other peoples safety as they occupy these same spaces. Fortunately I have been trained to think critically and have had my privilege called out on numerous occasions. Unfortunately, my naivety has led me into spaces that I assumed safe to then be faced with the reality that they were not. Today, unexpectedly, was one of those days.
            We came here to the United Nation Commission on the Status of Women with one vision, one mission, one common goal. We came here in solidarity, unified, together to end violence against women and girls. We came here with the certainty that we would be safe. Right? Thanks to the above mentioned privilege and naive assumptions, I entered Won Buddhism Internationals parallel event, "Spiritual Empowerment for Women and Girls," without questioning my own safety or the safety of others.
            However, as I listened to each of the three women speaking about Buddhism, Christianity and Judaism and the lone man presenting Islam I was quickly faced with the reality that this was not a safe space for me and many of the others that shared the same space. For 75 minutes they addressed the man and woman, girl and boy, husband and wife with no mention of any person existing outside of the dominant heteronormative bounds. We were informed that we as women (who are apparently defined by motherhood), needed to embrace, "total selflessness."
            I sat there and felt an anger come over me and had to question why. I quickly realized that it was because I felt threatened. I sensed that the others in the room felt threatened. I realized, they realized, we realized that THIS was not a safe space. As a verbally, sexually, physically abused, queer, infertile "country girl," battling a life-long mental illness I was not worthy of spiritual empowerment. In fact, I was not even recognized. We were not even recognized.  So there we were sat silently in solidarity, unified, together experiencing the same violence that we came here to fight against.
            I felt helpless, paralyzed, legs shaking, lips quivering until it was time for question and answer. I quickly raised my hand, stood up and called them out for neglecting to even acknowledge that an LGBTQIA community exists, curious about how that enters their Buddhist, Christian, Jewish, Muslim conversations. I also questioned how the violent oppressive notion that women should be women, minus their own "SELVES," leads to empowerment and the end of violence against women and girls. After a brief, half-assed response, the moderator quickly ended the conversation and moved on to the next question, which conveniently happened to be a touching conversion narrative (please sense my sarcasm) about a woman reformed after her abortion. I felt crushed. Frustrated. Silenced. Did it even matter?
            Then, as one women, turned, looked at me with her head nodding, and handed me her business card with a beautifully written note saying, "wonderful questions," another stepped up to remover herself from this unsafe space. She leaned into my aisle, with a mix of sadness and hope in her eyes, bowed her head slightly and whispered, "thank you." At that moment the helplessness turned into confidence, the paralysis into action, the shaking legs into sturdy roots and the quivering lips into an assertive voice.