Andi Cumbo - Writer, Editor, Online Writing Courses, Classes & Lessons

May 23, 2013
by Andi
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To Lose Myself in the Dancing

. . . at some point in our lives we have to be crazy, we have to lose control, step out of our ordinary way of seeing, and learn that the world is not the way we thin it is, that it isn’t solid, structured, and forever.  We are going to die someday, and nothing can control it. – Natalie Goldberg

When I was 18, my friend Liz painted my very short hair with tempera paint just before a Tony Vincent show (you may know him from The Voice last season), I was in my first year of a college, a Christian college that I still – 20 years later – love dearly.  I was chomping there, trying to bite the reins in half, but I didn’t realize it then. 4782359079

In the first part of my second semester, friends and I went to a conference in Pittsburgh called Jubilee. A lot of other Christian college students gathered in the hotel, and we heard leaders talk about transformation and faith and the ways we could change the world. Or at least I think that’s what we heard. I only have one flash of memory from the lectures – a hotel conference room, the door of it actually. Nothing else.

What I do remember is the table of books brought by Byron Borger of Hearts and Minds bookstore. I remember my glory at the stacks, my arms full, my purchases – including Madeline L’Engle’s Walking on Water, a book – the book? – that opened me up to the possibility that I might be an artist even more than I might be a teacher, a possibility I wouldn’t accept – tossing aside the ideas of tenure and a study with leather-bound books and students sitting to talk great literature – until just a few years ago now.

But my most vivid memory from Jubilee was a concert.  Vigilantes of Love and I had our first meeting.  Their gritty, bluegrass-tinged, beat-driven music spoke life to me.  I walked to the front of the audience, and I danced. Hard. Spinning. Bouncing. Arms high above my still-short hair.  I danced for their whole set.

When the music stopped, I realized that I was alone at the front of the stage.

I’m not sure I’ve done something so free and uninhibited since.

I’m aching to dance with abandon again. To throw off the inhibitions that I’ve added to my shoulders when people have offered them – the ones that bury risk and play under the rubble of expectation and a skewed definition of responsibility.  To be crazy, to dance my way out of the ordinary.

Even if I look around to find I danced all alone, it will be joyous.

Do you have any memories of a time you gave yourself over to joy and didn’t consider what people thought?

 

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May 21, 2013
by Andi
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Learning to Say “No”

We are not taught to say “no.” We are taught not to say “no.” “No” is rude. “No” is a rebuff, a rebuttal, a minor act of verbal violence. “No” is for drugs and strangers with candy. – Kevin Ashton

I’m learning to say, “No.” Even though the people pleaser in me always wants to say “yes.” Even though saying “yes” makes me feel more important and needed. Even though saying “yes” makes me feel more productive than my writing does some days. Even though I hate seeing the disappointment on someone’s face when I say “no.” 5580127313

I’m learning to say “No” because I need more time to do my work. Or more specifically, I need more time to just be. More time to let my mind run idle while I cut the grass, more time NOT making lists and recording voice memos to myself in the car because that’s the only time I have to swim through the mess of doing.

I’m learning to say “No” because I know how it feels to be the person someone says “yes” to and then to be the person left holding the workload and responsibility when that “yes” falls through or when the “yes” wasn’t really a “yes,” but more of a “I can’t say ‘no’”.

I’m learning to say “No” because I need space to respond when things go wrong and space to celebrate when things go well.  I need space.

I’m learning to say “No” because I want to be a person whose word is trusted and who commits and follows-through in a culture where these things are undervalued and slipping away like so much water through our thirsty fingers.

“No” is not mean or lazy. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have passion or that I’m “not taking advantage of every opportunity.” It doesn’t mean I don’t care, and it doesn’t mean that I dislike the cause or the person doing the asking. “No” simply means I’m a grown adult who knows my limitations and my needs and who honors them. “No” just means I’m giving my best to things I most care about.

I’m learning to say “No” because I want my “yes” to mean something.

I’m learning to say “No” because it is, often and maybe usually, the more loving thing to say.

What might you say “No” to today? 

 

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May 20, 2013
by Andi
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The Gift of Quiet Legacies

On Saturday, I wrote a eulogy for my grandfather. It involved gifts – a VCR for my family when my parents didn’t (couldn’t?) buy one, stuffed rabbits outside the door of his home in Florida one Easter morning, glazed donuts – a dozen – almost every day when he lived next door to us.  .  5417832718

As we sat in that cemetery on a hill in the Pennsylvania countryside, I looked out over all the headstones there with my grandfather’s silver-blue casket among them, and I chose to see gifts in those stones. Gifts of life and legacy. Story and mystery. Ceremony, honor, brokenness, and family.

While the pastor talked about mortality and the life everlasting, I pondered how life lingers here, even when it seems to end. The way the people about whom I’ve been writing have continued for hundreds of years as names on inventories and as mentions in letters about business transactions.  The way they have become  part of my life, decades after their deaths. The way memory graces us with generations.

I mourn my grandfather, my mother, and while I do wait for that life everlasting and that reunion, I linger here in their stories – a gift of descendants and memory. Their legacy.  Quiet. All mine. All ours. Forever.

What legacies do you carry with you?

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May 15, 2013
by Andi
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The Way Women Fear And Shouldn’t Have To

Trigger Warning – Depiction and Discussion of Rape and Sexual Assault

It’s about 3pm, and I’m in the middle of a mall parking lot.  I’ve just picked up something from Bon Ton, and I see two young men about my age having trouble with their car.  My human instinct is to help them – see if they need a ride, ask if they need some gas, etc. But I don’t go help because I’m a woman, and they are two men.  I have been taught that to help in those situations would be stupid.  8290599649

In Cheryl Strayed’s Wild, she describes her experiences of hitchhiking, how people will almost always give her a ride if she’s alone because as a woman, she’s less threatening than a man. She also describes how she gets fearful alone in a car with a man.

Later, two men find her alone on the trail in Oregon. She gets a clear sense that one of the men is dangerous, and sure enough, he returns alone a bit later, after having watched her change clothing.  She realizes that she’s “lucky” to have not been attacked yet.

A friend goes for a jog without her phone in a state park.  She sees two men coming toward her, and before she can even think, she’s afraid, wondering why they are there alone. She’s so scared she sprints back to her car.

Men, with all due respect, I think it’s hard for you to imagine this kind of fear – the kind that kicks in because of the way a man’s posture changes when you pass, the scent of adrenaline as it courses into your body even as you try to look calm so as not to antagonize, the way that leaving work a little later than usual can cause you to break into a sweat as you walk across an empty parking lot.  I don’t think you can get this, men, because you don’t have to fear this way.*

This is the world of women. That we are taught to be afraid of men when we are alone. We have been taught this for a reason.

1 in 6 women will be the victims of rape or attempted rape in their lifetimes. 

We know this. We protect ourselves as best we can – knowing that sometimes it’s not enough.  I was assaulted in the middle of the day in a store where I worked as teenager. Right behind the front counter.  That’s how unafraid this man was.  We can only do so much to prevent rape and sexual assault.

But we do what we can. The issue is NOT WOMEN. Women know the score; we know the risk. This is the reason most of us walk around on alert when we are alone.

The issue is MEN. Men who continue to prey upon women. Men who continue to think it’s acceptable to make sexualized jokes to women they don’t know. Men who catcall and comment on women’s bodies as if those bodies belonged to those men.

Of course, all men do not do these things, and for that I am very grateful. But still, there is a pervasive pattern in male culture that sexualizes women, that focuses far too much on their physical selves and far too little on their emotional, psychological, or intellectual selves. If you doubt me, spend today listening to men talk – in person and in the media – and see how many times you hear degrading comments about women. I suspect you’ll be surprised.

The way to reduce these rape statistics, the way to help women feel safe is not to continue to dwell on the ways women can protect themselves.  We’ve got that covered. What we need is for men to learn how to treat a woman as an equal. What we need is for men to not be given excuses – “men are more sexual.” “That’s just how men are.” – for their inappropriate behavior.  What we need is for men to really be men.

I don’t know how men help each other do this – I’m not privy to the circles where men spend time with each other, but I hope that in those circles men stop each other from making lewd or disrespectful comments about women. I’d love it if not a single bachelor party evoked the phrase “ball and chain” ever again.  I’d love it if I never heard a man say that his girlfriend needed to drop 20 pounds so he’d find her attractive again. I’d love it if rape jokes were slammed, as they sometimes have been of late, every time they come up. But I know there is more men can do to help each other change the cultural attitudes toward women that make sexual assault a reality for someone in the U.S. every 2 minutes.

What I do know is women, and I know as women we can speak up. We can – even at the cost of being called “bitchy” or “sensitive,” which is, of course, a whole additional layer of this problem – demand that men not speak of women in a disrespectful manner. We can support our friends when they stand up against abusive partners. We can use our voices and demand better from the men we know.  So that we will not need to be afraid, and so that they will not need to be feared.

What I would love is for my friends’ daughters to be able to walk along a quiet street at night. To be able to look up at the stars and linger on a quiet corner in peace. I want them to be able to pull up to a car broken down and offer to help. I want them to not carry the guilt for not helping over 15 years later.

What will you do to help our attitudes toward women change as a society? 

*Men are, of course, victims of assault and rape.  Absolutely. But still, I don’t think most men walk around fearful of their physical safety most of the time.

 

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May 14, 2013
by Andi
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It’s NEVER a Woman’s Fault if She’s Attacked – NEVER

Trigger Warning – Discussion of sexual assault and rape.

A young woman is killed in Turkey, and she is criticized for traveling alone. 98193355

A woman is raped, and her attackers videotape the attack; the woman is told she should not have had so much to drink.

A young girl is assaulted, and her classmates tell her she led the boy on by talking to him and wearing “cute clothes.”

The men, the murderers and attackers – they may be, may! be held accountable in a court, but they are rarely held accountable by the public.

Instead, we lay blame against these women, as if there is anything at all in the world they could do to be responsible for these actions.*

***

I know all the arguments about the reality of the world, about women needing to be savvy, about being street smart. I don’t disagree with any of those things. Sadly, we need to protect ourselves.

What rankles me is that we only put our attention there, as if the way a woman dresses or the fact that she chooses to walk alone at night is the problem.

It’s not the problem. The fact that some men prey on women – that’s the problem.

If I’m a woman, and I’m walking down the street naked, you still don’t have a right to rape me. – Dick Gregory

We spend so much energy blaming the victim – and I know that’s a cliche, a buzz word – but let it buzz in our heads like a gong – BLAMING THE VICTIM.  I know we do this sometimes because we think we – as women – can control only ourselves. But when we carry the blame on our own backs and heap it onto people who are already victimized instead of onto the people who committed these terrible crimes, we do nothing to solve the problem and everything to perpetuate it.

What if we dedicated as much energy to teaching men that they do not own women, to educating boys about respect and equality, to training men that women are not just bodies for men’s sexual pleasure, to speaking up when men attack women and saying, “You, you, sir, did something horrible?” What if we actually expected better from men?

What if we dedicated as much energy to teaching women that our gender does not make us victims, that our gender is not weaker or lesser, and that if people treat it like it is, the problem is theirs, not ours? What if dedicated as much energy to teaching women not only physical self-defense but also the kind of defense that comes from a sense of equality and self-worth, the kind of self-defense that lets a woman set boundaries and protect herself in conversations with co-workers and classmates, at dinner parties and movie theaters? What if we taught women to speak in declarative sentences instead of in questions – to say No and not need to justify it.

What if we dedicated as much energy to sitting with women who had been victimized and telling them – 100 million times if necessary to counter the cultural voices that say they are to blame – “You did nothing to deserve this. You did nothing wrong. Your attacker – he is to blame.”

 A dear friend of mine was attacked this weekend. Attacked by a man she did not know. In broad daylight.

A friend of a friend of mine was raped on her back porch while her infant sat in a stroller nearby.  In broad daylight. In a quiet neighborhood.

Another friend of mine was assaulted in a dance club. In a crowded public space.

See assault, rape – these are not things women can protect ourselves from all the time. We can carry whistles and go out in the day. We can walk with our keys between our stretched fingers and make good choices, and yet, we still are attacked.  It’s not US who need to “make better choices.” It’s our culture that needs to stop saying the problem lies with us and to start addressing the real problem – men’s lack of respect for women.

What if we stopped tolerating language that makes it sound like it’s a woman’s fault if she’s attacked? What if we stopped allowing men to make jokes about rape, if we stopped allowing men who don’t know us speak to us as if we are only bodies to be evaluated? What if took all that energy that we put into trying to protect ourselves and taught our society how to value us and protect us instead?

 

*Of course, men are victims of sexual assault, too. I grieve for these men as well. Yet, 9 out of 10 rape victims are women.

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