SheLoves Magazine

Fear vs Love: My Power to Choose

I believe when we choose to function in love, we choose to step out in courage and break walls of ignorance and indifference …

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

Sometimes, even the most ordinary task can lead to panic. I try to focus on the recipe in front of me and drown out the thoughts swirling around in my mind: “What if I fail?”

From the archives of my brain I pull a memory from the past that has imprinted Fear on my mind. The smell of burnt supper and the image of my husband’s brave face as the beads of sweat form on his brow and he labours through every bite.

I pour some milk into the mixture.

“Was that supposed to be half a cup? Uh-oh.” I messed up the measurements.

As I attempt to juggle tasks, turning from the frying pan to the cutting board, I continue to draw out these fears in my mind. I begin to believe that if I fail at making this meal, I’ve failed as a person, as a woman and as a wife … again.

“What is that smell?”

It’s all downhill from here.

Not only do my thoughts get the best of me, I become an emotional mess, and it starts to show in the way I respond to other people, and the way I hold the knife in my hands.

The thought that my efforts will only disappoint plants itself in my brain, and I begin to feel at first inadequate, then irritated and finally angry. By the time I’m done trying to salvage what I hoped would be an edible meal, I collapse into tears.

“Forget it. You’ll never be good enough,” I tell myself. I’m left feeling hopeless and my evening is ruined.

Thoughts Have Power

Hi, my name is Stephanie and I’m often afraid.

Fear and thoughts of ridicule and rejection, have paralysed me many times in my life. They have kept me from taking risks, reaching out, sharing my heart and even building relationships.

But, I’m learning that God has given us the gift of controlling our thoughts and choosing to function in love, so our lives are not ruled by fear.

In her book The Gift in You, Dr Caroline Leaf explains that our thoughts have emotions attached to them and that all emotions are derived from two root emotions: fear and love. Dr Leaf’s studies have led her to conclude that, because these two emotions cannot function at the same time, at any given moment we are functioning in either fear or in love. And it is our thoughts and emotions that determine our attitude.

“Fear is not a natural part of how we were created … We were created for love and all that goes with it, but we have learned to fear,” says Dr. Leaf.

However, God has equipped us to deal with fear, because we were created with the ability to choose between fear and love. Dr. Leaf explains that this choice happens in the frontal lobe of our brain. She says the frontal lobe allows us to stand outside ourselves and observe our own thinking, helping us make decisions about our thoughts and evaluate information. I imagine this as the part of the brain where I talk to myself.

Making Better Choices

Through my work as a photographer and a writer, I have learned to ask questions in order to understand people and social issues better. I’m finding that it’s also a great way to learn more about myself, so I can make better choices. When I ask myself questions like, “Why are you reacting to making a mistake in this way?” “What are you afraid of?” or “What is stopping you?” the answers lead me to an awareness that can help me choose to operate in love. Obviously, I don’t always make that choice, but I’ve found that asking questions always creates bridges of understanding, whether I’m trying to understand a story, another person, myself, my circumstances or social problems.

As I analyse and understand information, people and circumstances, I can then choose how I am going to react to them. And by controlling my thoughts, I determine my attitude.

I’ve seen how this works in my own life, and the more I practice, the more I find myself analysing situations and choosing to function in love. It’s not easy, because even when I try and perform a simple task, like making a good meal, if I’m not careful, I can let my fears overwhelm, even control me.

I’ve also seen what transformation happens when people learn to realign their thinking. The women at Living Hope in Uganda, have experienced some of the most horrible traumas–abuse, rejection, betrayal. Experiences in their life taught them that they were unwanted, unworthy and incapable. Through discipleship and trauma rehabilitation, they learn to process their traumas and confront their past. They forgive and let go of the toxic elements in their lives. They learn to see themselves and understand their value through God’s lens. Where they once saw brokenness and fear, they begin to see beauty and love. As they realign their thoughts and begin to function in love, their lives, health and relationships improve.

When I hear their stories and try to imagine what it’s like to have travelled their journeys, I sometimes wonder if I could have found the courage to choose to heal in the same way they did.

But they are examples to me that God has given us the key to a great life–one full of purpose–and it all begins with the ability to choose. I believe that when we choose to function in love, we choose to step out in courage, break walls of ignorance and indifference, as well as burst bubbles of isolation. When we choose Love, we become better people and we make our world a better place.

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About Stephanie:

I believe in the power of storytelling. I’m a photographer and writer for Fakeleft. Together with my husband, we love sharing stories of courage, of strength in the face of adversity, of triumph and hope. I truly believe that by partnering with others who want to bring change and justice to our world, we can actually make a difference.  I’m learning to walk in my nascent faith, but it’s not always easy. It’s an interesting journey.

I am currently living in Uganda, but my heart is everywhere. I’m a proud Latina from Choluteca, Honduras. I wish I had a Latino accent. My favourite meal is dessert and my favourite sport is tanning. I blog at fakeleft.com and tweet at @stephmotz.

Ruth Anaya: Building Bridges to Kenya

“We listen. We learn. We hear wisdom in the voice of the elders, and sometimes in the voices of children.”

By Christi Walter

I get to write about women who are being the change in their community and do ministry where their feet are.

For that reason, I recently sat down at a little coffee shop Walnut Grove with a former professor of mine who still inspires and challenges me. Ruth Anaya is Assistant Professor of Cross-Cultural & Leadership Communication & Development Studies at Trinity Western University and a current Ph.D candidate. Her days are abundantly full teaching and researching, while she’s also a wife and mother to two teenage boys. Still, she has another foot planted in a Kenyan village, worlds away from the Canadian suburbs.

Ruth is warm and sincere with fair skin, freckles and a smile that reaches her eyes. I won’t soon forget the first class I took of hers: a travel study to Guatemala. Since the best way to learn Cross-Cultural Communication is through personal experience, Ruth takes Trinity students to either Central America or Africa every year. The program is packed with hands-on learning. We explored the cities, spent a day learning a craft from local artisans and met people from all walks of life. Ruth imparted her passionate belief in the importance of relationship and communication in development work.

Ruth has been to over 30 countries and worked in Africa for several years. Since settling down in BC, she’s been back several times, both with her family and on her own. During her travels, Ruth and her family built a deep connection with the people of Muhanda, a village in Western Kenya.

“Their hospitality is absolutely amazing,” says Ruth.

Ruth and her husband Petra, a Kenyan native, were inspired to come alongside the village and help in any way they could. In 2009, they founded Hands On Development Initiatives (HODI), a non-profit dedicated to finding innovative ways for rural communities to end the poverty cycle.

The couple partner with a variety of people from business owners to government officials and more. Many of these people owe their success to the community’s generosity and are eager to give back. So far, HODI has given Muhanda access to clean water, opened a much-needed maternity clinic and created scholarships to help students complete their education.

Although Muhanda is one of the poorest places in Kenya, Ruth was struck by the radical hope, ingenuity and generosity of its residents. Her work with them has grown organically out of relationship; a symbiotic partnership. HODI’s website says, “We listen. We learn. We hear wisdom in the voice of the elders, and sometimes in the voices of children.”

It was by listening carefully that they learned about local AIDS orphans living with their grandparents, and were able to help them. “They were just destitute,” Ruth says.  It’s the invisible ones HODI seeks out, she says. Those who can’t advocate for themselves. This is why they focus on projects that help the whole community thrive. ‘That way no-one gets left behind,” Ruth says, quietly but emphatically.

Ruth barely gave her coffee cup a glance as she talked animatedly about the village’s history. When Kenya was under colonial rule, the British didn’t see any economic advantage to educating girls, she explains, but the local missionaries believed in the value of educating women. Their school taught many Maragoli women, including some of Petra’s female relatives.

Maternal Health

Hands-On Development Initiatives International is built on a similar ethos of equality and empowerment. After recognizing the brutal lack of care for women during pregnancy and childbirth, HODI is facilitating the construction of a maternity hospital. The best estimates show 14,700 Kenyan women and girls die from pregnancy-related complications every year, and the lack of maternal healthcare weighed heavily on this mother.

“Many of these women were giving birth with no help,” Ruth says. “They were dying from minor problems. No woman today should have to go through that.”

HODI is about holistic community collaboration, so Ruth and her family prefer to “stay in the shadows” as much as possible. They bring supplies every visit, but they give them to trusted community leaders who give them to people who need them most  “We keep track of it all,” she says, “But we don’t ever want it to be ‘O, the Canadians are here.’ There’s a temptation toward heroism in situations like these, but that’s not what it’s about.”

For years, Ruth has ushered students out of the classroom and into radically different parts of the planet, to meet and learn from the people there. Today, several students and alumni intern and volunteer with her non-profit, taking part in this vital work of reconciliation. Ruth’s excitement and enthusiasm for building bridges between different cultures has led to deeply meaningful work.

I don’t mind telling you, it’s pretty contagious.

Find out more about HODI at www.hodiinternational.com

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About Christi:
Christi has a Communications degree from Trinity Western University. She loves stories and feels privileged to have heard some truly incredible ones while interning at Childcare Canada. Christi hopes to figure out how she can best use her gifts to impact the world around her. Her greatest passions are writing and travel. She’s just come back from recent travels in Australia.

Photo credits: Christi, by Cecilia Flaming

Launching Global Mothers: Finding My Purpose in Another’s Dream

” … what began as an invitation to orchestrate my dad’s dream, has turned into an opportunity to shape my own.”

By Katie Mogan Graham

I spent the first twenty odd years of my life thinking I was meant to be an artist. It didn’t really matter what kind, just someone who spent her days making things beautiful (and being allowed to make her living quarters messy as she did so). I loved to draw and design costumes as a child. This was followed by a brief love affair with pottery and then a longer relationship with photography in high school. At university I decided to major in Art History (aka studying other people who made the world beautiful) and I worked at a gallery until I graduated.

The heady, idealistic phase of believing my papers actually made an impact on the world around me, ended abruptly as I entered “the workforce.” Braced with my best imitation of an “office outfit,” I spent three years trying to add beauty to my cubicle-d surroundings (and sometimes their inhabitants). I organized events, decorated lunchrooms, styled photo shoots, made elaborate presents for my colleagues’ birthdays, but still felt that my nine-to-five beautification project fell short of what I could really do, if given the opportunity. Convinced that I could do more, I ended up leaving my steady salary to start my own business dedicated solely to my love of fashion, events and beauty.

I called myself “the urban stylist” and spent my days cruising stores on Robson Street in Vancouver for the latest trends. I spent nights attending fashion shows. I enjoyed the freedom to plan my days however I liked, and particularly loved writing for local fashion publications. Still, as the months progressed, I sensed something wasn’t quite right. It could be that I had recently met a really nice plaid-wearing guy from a small town “Up North,” or maybe the massive pile of credit card bills were finally starting to take their toll. There are probably many reasons why this latest incarnation of my artistic dream didn’t work out, but the deciding factor was being asked to help someone else live theirs.

A Dream

In 2010, my dad asked me to help him a launch an organization that had been his dream for over twenty years. He had the vision and the means to support it, but he wanted someone with an arts background to get it off the ground. The idea was to create market access for impoverished artisans around the world. We would partner with development organizations to ensure wages were fair and profits were split between the artisans and community development projects. In addition to increased demand for their products, we would also provide the artisans with design ideas to appeal to North American consumers. I would be in charge of designing and choosing the products and creating our brand, an artistic challenge too enticing to turn down.

In the last two years, what began as an invitation to orchestrate my dad’s dream, has turned into an opportunity to shape my own. It’s not what I ever would have envisioned for my life, and yet it satisfies my desire to create and find beauty. I don’t make things, but I help people make them, and somehow that is much more satisfying. The women may not step off the pages of Vogue, but they are far more beautiful than any model I have met.

So yes, I could do more–support more charities, volunteer for more events, tithe more, give more time. I could also spend less on lattes, watch fewer reruns on Netflix, gossip less, whine less. I could do these things, but I’ve decided that my purpose, what I was truly made to do is to take what I love and use it to connect with others. I can’t delete my past, so I intend to let it continue shaping my future.

 Launch

Tomorrow, Saturday May 12th, we (Global Mothers) are celebrating the last two years of research and preparation by throwing a big party!

The timing is actually quite perfect as it is both Mother’s Day weekend and World Fair Trade Day–basically our organization in a nutshell. We are inviting everyone to come and join us as we share information about our artisans, their products and the work that the NGOs are doing in their communities. There will be live music, interactive drum workshops, songs and stories for kids provided by Vancouver mom/songwriter Sheree Plett, a whole kids zone with face painting, crafts and a photo booth, as well as multiple screenings of our short film, “Buy Good”. Everyone who attends can enter our draw to win Global Mothers products, as well as munch on delicious food prepared by the amazing ladies who run The Banqueting Table. We’d love to share Global Mothers Day with you, so drop by on Saturday, May 12th anytime from 12pm-4pm. Regent College: 5800 University Blvd. on the UBC Campus. You can check out our facebook page here or download our GM launch event poster here.

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About Katie:

I am that person who stays up late on Tuesday nights, watching kitten videos on Youtube. I am also the person who routinely eats milk duds and grape juice for dinner while watching said videos–information I don’t typically share with anyone. I am the happy newly wed wife of one lovely Northern BC fellow, who loves me despite my “endearing” quirks. When I am not tearing-up at the sight of kittens yawning in their sleep, I manage a non-profit, called Global Mothers. It takes me places I never thought I would go, introduces me to women I am honoured to have met, and challenges me to be more of who I was made to be.

Let Us Be Women Who Love

[Archives]

Join us online today by watching LifeWomen conference here live. Last night, we read out the SheLoves Manifesto together in a room with about 400 women. Talk about a Roar! We thought it would be a good idea to repost our Manifesto again today.

[Download LET US BE WOMEN WHO LOVE as a PDF version.]

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women willing to lay down our sword words, our sharp looks, our ignorant silence and towering stance and fill the earth now with extravagant Love.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who make room.

Let us be women who open our arms and invite others into an honest, spacious, glorious embrace.

Let us be women who carry each other.

Let us be women who give from what we have.

Let us be women who leap to do the difficult things, the unexpected things and the necessary things.

Let us be women who live for Peace.

Let us be women who breathe Hope.

Let us be women who create beauty.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be a sanctuary where God may dwell.

Let us be a garden for tender souls.

Let us be a table where others may feast on the goodness of God.

Let us be a womb for Life to grow.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us rise to the questions of our time.

Let us speak to the injustices in our world.

Let us move the mountains of fear and intimidation.

Let us shout down the walls that separate and divide.

Let us fill the earth with the fragrance of Love.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us listen for those who have been silenced.

Let us honour those who have been devalued.

Let us say, Enough! with abuse, abandonment, diminishing and hiding.

Let us not rest until every person is free and equal.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who are savvy, smart and wise.

Let us be women who shine with the light of God in us.

Let us be women who take courage and sing the song in our hearts.

Let us be women who say, Yes to the beautiful, unique purpose seeded in our souls.

Let us be women who call out the song in another’s heart.

Let us be women who teach our children to do the same.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who Love, in spite of fear.

Let us be women who Love, in spite of our stories.

Let us be women who Love loudly, beautifully, Divinely.

Let us be women who Love.

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About Idelette:

I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Loving Myself, An Introvert

“I’ve always thought you had to be loud to make a difference and aggressive to succeed.”

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

Photograph by Fakeleft for ©Watoto.

After about two weeks in journalism school, I was sure I’d made the worst mistake of my life. For some reason, when I imagined myself as a journalist, I thought I’d be working solo, wouldn’t need to interact with many people and stories would magically fall into my lap. I didn’t think of group projects, interviews or stopping strangers on the street.”

As I observed the other students, I picked out the ones I thought would become the successful journalists. They were similar in character to many of our professors: outgoing, gregarious, ambitious and even aggressive. It all felt very different from me.

Hi, my name is Stephanie and I’m an introvert.

Often times, a few short hours of mingling and small talk with a large group of people can feel like a whole day. I enjoy meeting others, but it does require a lot of me and can sometimes seem exhausting. I’m soft spoken, and it’s not unusual for me to remain silent during a debate at the dinner table. It may appear as if I’m bored or indifferent, but I’m actually absorbing and processing everything inside my mind. Then it’s not unusual for me to give my opinion a day later–often to the only one who will listen a day later–my husband.

I’m better at making few but long-lasting and loyal friendships, than having a wide circle of acquaintances. I’m out of my comfort zone in large groups. At parties where I don’t know anybody, I feel the urge to hide in the coat closet.

Over time I drilled this idea into my head that if I do not change my personality and adapt to the way the world really works, I wouldn’t ever see my dreams come true. That scared me. So, I felt a certain need to reject these intrinsic qualities that define me.

My Myths

- I’ve always been convinced–deep inside of me–that because of the limitations of my personality, I’d never achieve as much as I might like to.

- I noticed that those who were more assertive, self-assured, outspoken and outgoing were often also the most celebrated.

- And I’ve always thought you had to be loud to make a difference and aggressive to succeed. I guess it’s only natural then that, because of my personality, I convinced myself that my voice is unnecessary.

In trying to conform to other people’s standards, I denied my true nature. It seems that as I try to run my race at the pace and rhythm of others, I’m thrusting aside my authentic and unedited voice, and the strengths and qualities that make me unique.

“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” – Gandhi

Recently, however, I’ve been learning to accept my quiet introversion as an essential part of my identity, and I’m starting to be okay with it. I was encouraged by Susan Cain’s TED talk about the power of introverts, and in Love is the Killer App, Tim Sanders writes about a more compassionate approach to business. At times when I compare myself to others–especially extroverts–I wonder if I can ever be good enough. For me, these writers are opening a conversation that says emphatically, “Yes, you can.” And when I ask, How? the answer seems to be, “By being who you really are.”

I believe that God created each one of us with specific and special personalities for a reason. We all have different experiences and see the world through our own unique lenses. We each have something valuable, something necessary to contribute to life. Maybe, in accepting our personalities as gifts from God, we can begin to come to a better understanding of what it means to live with purpose. By combining His character with the unique perspectives He has given to each of us, perhaps we can live out a life that brings value to our communities.

Ultimately, this reminds me that our individual voices do matter.

For my part, I’m beginning to love the idea of embracing my true and raw voice, and as Susan Cain expresses, “of having the courage to speak softly.”

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About Stephanie:
I believe in the power of storytelling. I’m a photographer and writer for Fakeleft. Together with my husband, we love sharing stories of courage, of strength in the face of adversity, of triumph and hope. I truly believe that by partnering with others who want to bring change and justice to our world, we can actually make a difference.  I’m learning to walk in my nascent faith, but it’s not always easy. It’s an interesting journey.

I am currently living in Uganda, but my heart is everywhere. I’m a proud Latina from Choluteca, Honduras. I wish I had a Latino accent. My favourite meal is dessert and my favourite sport is tanning. I blog at fakeleft.com/blog and tweet at @stephmotz

ShePonders: Black and Beautiful

“In the shade of the trees on that sunny afternoon, all we could do was cry and pray that our children would be spared the hurt of prejudice and the injustice of discrimination because of their dark skin.”

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha | Twitter: @kelljnik

The most intriguing and intoxicating woman of the Bible, for me, has always been the Shulamite woman we find in The Song of Songs.

“Yes, I am black and radiant!

O city women watching me –

As black as Kedar’s goat hair tents

Or Solomon’s fine tapestries.

 

Will you disrobe me with your stares?

The eyes of many morning suns

Have pierced my skin and now I shine

Black as the light before dawn.”  (Song of Songs 1:5-6, translated by Marcia Falk)

Such a bold introduction as she declares with pride that she is black and beautiful! She announces her dark complexion as a definitive beauty mark before the crowd of watchful city women; she stands against any words to the contrary. This ravishing beauty has confidence laced with moxy–maybe part of the reason I find her so compelling!

The Hebrew poetry here is a tour de force. She is black and radiant. She is black as the renowned tents that the Kedarites weave with only the wool of black goats. She is black as the mysterious curtains or tapestries in Solomon’s temple. She is like the shining blackness, pregnant with light, the moment before dawn breaks. These are all images of blackness as a deeply mysterious and luxurious kind of beauty. And as such, she embraces her full compliment of dark, sun-kissed, beauty.  She is the IT girl for the ancient “Black is Beautiful” campaign.

But the Hebrew poetry is always a bit elusive, never conforming to only one reading. And so we also have this translation for verse six:

“Do not see me only as dark:

The sun has stared at me.”  (translated by Ariel & Chana Bloch)

Hearing the Hebrew words in this manner, brings the Shulamite woman closer to my heart this week.  She carries an awareness not only of her stunning beauty, but also of how her dark skin can sometimes be all that people see. Even for this woman, dark skin holds connotations of a lower social class.  She knows that not everyone sees beyond her blackness–we can be thankful that Solomon possessed greater wisdom.

How Others See

Flashback to The Justice Conference in Portland this past February where I sat between Idelette and Tina. I heard that black young men are more likely (to a staggering degree) to be arrested, accused, convicted and incarcerated for crimes they did not commit. I heard that black young women are more likely to be victims of sex trafficking. Something in me broke. A geyser of tears pushed from deep in my belly, exploding on the floor of the event center.  My uncontrolled tears matched the realization that I could not control how others see my son and daughter.

My son is highly intelligent and inquisitive, he has a depth of emotion and such physical velocity that I sometimes struggle to parent him well. My daughter is affectionate, cheerful, unflappable and so fearless that it both inspires and frightens me!  They are my children. That is how I see them. But on that rainy afternoon I slammed into the reality that others see only their black skin. They could be at peril in this precarious world so permeated with injustice. And there is nothing I can do …

Packing Skittles

Fast forward to recent weeks where a tragic story broke in Florida. A teenage boy was shot. He was wearing a hoodie and packing Skittles and an iced tea. He was black. His blackness made him suspicious. This is, we are learning, a complicated case. But there is little doubt that race played into the chain of events. I avoided the story at first–turned the channel or walked out of the room to fold some laundry or put away dishes in the kitchen. I did not want to go there; I did not want to feel that uncontrollable hurt and fear again.

But my son is black. He wears a hoodie to school on cold mornings and he likes Skittles. It could be him walking home some day. I feel that chock of pain vibrate through my body again. He is at greater risk because he is black. What do I, as a mother, do with that?

I am a white woman, raised with every advantage and every privilege–what do I know of living with blackness? But now I have been entrusted with two stunning black babies and I am to be their guardian and guide in this world–it feels a bit ironic. And as I consider what it is to be black in this world, I feel heaviness and heartbreak have moved in to my maternal psyche.

Discrimination

This week I sat in the park with my friend as our children played together. I cried about how the world sees my black babies, who I adore. She cried too – because as an Arab woman she knows the world sees her lovely boys as future terrorists. In the shade of the trees on that sunny afternoon, all we could do was cry and pray that our children would be spared the hurt of prejudice and injustice of discrimination because of their dark skin.

I feel like I am “obeying the sadness of our times,” as Frederick Buechnersays. I am sitting with this raw sadness now, not trying to escape it. I am coming face to face with this reality that not everyone has the wisdom of Solomon to see that black is beautiful and the ability to embrace those with dark complexion and bright countenance. Sometimes you have to feel the pain before you can transform it, and that is where I am right now.

Today I am keeping company with the Shulamite woman. But it is not because she fascinates me with her confidence or display of gender equality or even her robust expression of affection, but because I need to be with someone who understands me. She and I agree: black is beautiful. My daughter is like her–dark and radiant, absolutely glowing with that just-before-dawn-beauty. The Shulamite woman understands that kind of gorgeous.  But she also knows the world will misunderstand it. She knows, better than I, that some people can never see beyond skin color. But we hold hands and hope things will get better.  We commit to do our part to break the prejudice in our world.  But for today, we sit together and say, “do not see them only as dark … “

This is one Mama’s prayer.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• What “sadness of our times” are you carrying?
• What’s your greatest fear or pain for your children?
• Any other comments?

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Audio: ShePonders: Black and Beautiful

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

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About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

I Bear Witness

“If all of us acted in unison as I act individually, there would be no wars and no poverty. I have made myself personally responsible for the fate of every human being who has come my way.” -Anais Nin 

By Desiree Adaway | Twitter: @desireeadaway

As a kid, I was told the real power of the crucifixion of Christ was not that it happened, but that there were people to bear witness to the act. People saw and were able to deliver first-hand their testimony.

I testify to change hearts and minds.

I travel the world, because I believe in the power of connection and community. I believe in the beauty of humanity and the gift of mercy. I travel to help strip bare the man-made constraints of culture and language and all the other social barriers we have created to keep us apart.

I travel so I can testify.

To deliver a testimony.

I am a connector. I help connect people, ideas, and organizations. I am a builder of community and the foundation of my building is based on the rock of social justice. As I share my thoughts on social justice and some of my personal beliefs on community, I hope, in turn, you will share your thoughts with me.

I believe God’s love for the world is an active and engaged love, a love seeking justice and liberty for all.  I believe we cannot just be observers to pain and suffering, because I believe in the inherent dignity and value of all humans. So I testify:

If my sister in Angola is not safe, then we are all responsible.

Every child that goes to bed hungry, whether across the world or up the street, is my child.

And my child deserves dignity and honor. My sister deserves to be seen, loved, acknowledged and cared for.

So I bear witness. I bear witness to confirm the right of persons and peoples to determine their own destiny and daily lives; to live in peace and security; and to flourish in freedom. We all have the right to live in a safe and secure place. Freedom is our divine right. We all should be free to move beyond past limitations and become all we were created to be.

I cannot be of service to people whom I am separate from physically or mentally. I can have no degrees of separation–we are one community. We must build and maintain our community together and make our brothers’ and sisters’ problems our problems, and to solve them together.

We must work together to conceive and build the good community, society and world we want and deserve to live in. Robert Ingersoll says we should give to every human being every right that we claim for ourselves. I could not have said it better.

In a real community, no one is invisible or unworthy. Not my child nor my sister. So I bear witness to make sure they are seen and heard.

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How about you:

• Do you bear witness to another’s suffering? Do you testify of their struggle?
• Do you believe that giving voice to another’s struggle promotes global freedom and community?
• What are your thoughts on the pursuit of social justice?

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About Desiree:

Desiree is a consultant, strategist, coach, speaker, storyteller and explorer.  She uses her superpowers–her voice, sense of adventure and belief in the transformative power of community–to help organizations design programs that create unrestricted revenue, volunteers and advocates.

You can find out more about her at www.desireeadaway.com, or follow her on Twitter at @desireeadaway

Photo credit: Hands, by xlordashx

Bald Solidarity

“We think making a difference begins with making a statement. A bold one.”–Beth Roberts, Bald Solidarity

By Sarah E. Richardson | Twitter: @sarsrichardson

I was taking photos at a benefit concert the first time I heard Beth Roberts talk about shaving her head to fight injustice. She had long blonde hair and the most sincere smile I had ever seen.

Beth was sharing the vision for Bald Solidarity, a Seattle-based non-profit organization committed to ending injustice for women around the world through fundraising and social advocacy. She spoke of her time as a teacher in Bangladesh. She spoke of girls sold into slavery and given to marriages they never wanted. She told of widows left on the streets with nothing because they no longer had value. Then she talked about women in the Western world—so obsessed with beauty and appearance, so tortured by trivial decisions like haircuts and lipstick.

She said something that day that changed me:

“Hair is just a marker of our identity, and giving it up is our way of choosing to support women around the world who don’t have much choice at all. We think making a difference begins with making a statement. A bold one.”

I was hooked.

I stared at Beth, camera forgotten by my side, and wondered how I could ever shave my head willingly, yet also knowing that I was definitely going to do it.

Then it hit me—it came down to a simple choice: my hair or my voice. So I chose my voice.

Sure, shaving my head was terrifying, but I knew Beth was on to something. I could support the cause with my money and walk away unchanged, or I could support the cause with my hair and never be the same again.

The first time I shaved my head we raised more than $2,500 for a local organization fighting human trafficking. It was November and my head was freezing.

Inner Wonders

Everything changed that day. That was the day I realized the wonders inside of me were so much more important than what was on the outside. I’ve always known God had a better grasp on who I really was, because my heart mattered so much more to Him than my hair did (or my clothes, or my car, or my cell phone). But for the first time in my life I could see it too.

I felt beautiful and empowered—it no longer mattered that I was the single girl with the crooked teeth and love-handles who sang a little too loud in church, because now I was the bald girl—a little crazy in a good way.

I’ve shaved for Bald Solidarity twice and I know I am likely to do it again, because if I ever have a daughter I want to look her in the face and say, “Baby, we fight for what we believe in and we look out for others even when they live on the other side of the world.”

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About Sarah:

I’m more likely to answer to Sars than Sarah. That’s because years ago my brothers started calling me Sars and, as the name implies, it was infectious. I’m a visual journalism grad from Western Washington University and a self-proclaimed writer-photographer-Jesus-lover-painter-adventurer-foodie. I have a near obsession with ending injustice and I’m a sucker for a good cause.

I blog at sometimesscreaminghelps.com and tweet at @sarsrichardson

No Eenie Meenie In My Mouth

“Bottom line, we don’t realize how much we don’t realize and we should be very humble in our place in the world and within our culture.” –Ken Wytsma, Founder, The Justice Conference

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

I am from bobotie and milktart and the southernmost tip of Africa.

In primary school I earned A’s learning the names of Portuguese traders like Bartolomeu Dias who sailed around that Cabo de Boa Esperanza–the Cape of Good Hope–for the first time and Vasco da Gama who first reached India via Africa.

What I didn’t learn was the name of a man or a woman bought and sold as slaves by traders at Portuguese outposts, like the castle at Elmina on the Gold Coast of Africa.

Until recently, these stories were all separate in my head.

Until recently, I also didn’t know that a simple nursery rhyme is part of perpetuating this horrific past.

This Is Not It

When I attended the Justice Conference in Portland last month, I listened as Ken Wytsma, founder of the conference, unpacked the concept of “justice.”

He demonstrated just how insidious injustice could be by telling us a story. In November 2011, Ken traveled to Cape Coast, Ghana, to research the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade and also film a media project with poet Micah Bournes. While there, Ken spoke to a local scholar who had received his PhD in History in England on the slave trade. He asked for evidence of the widespread gender violence … and if anything was in writing.

That’s when he heard about a song that popped up in Portuguese diaries of the time, a song used by traders to pick a woman for the night.

Where the song ended, determined which woman was selected for the night. The scholar then began to sing it in his heavy accent:

“Eenie Meenie Mini Moe …”

Hearing these words, even in a crowd of 4,000 people, hit me like a machete in my stomach.

How have I missed this? How have I perpetuated this?

While Elmina castle is infamous for the buying and selling of slave souls, somehow I’ve missed this other story happening on the sidelines of the slave horror: The story of prostituted women lined up to serve the slave traders’ sexual whims.

Women marginalized even in the margins.

Now that I know, I hear the echo of this counting-out rhyme in my head as words streaming out of Portuguese buyers’ mouths. Men counting out to determine a woman’s fate.

Now I hear these words, thick as rope, woven around the women, tying them to a destiny of diminishment.

I am not ignorant to the power of words to tie up and enslave.

I know the teeth that can sink into vowels and consonants. I am not ignorant to the degradation that can be embedded and perpetuated down the generations. This very rhyme also has thick ugly racist connotations; so much so that in 2003 two passengers sued Southwest Airlines for emotional distress when a steward jokingly employed the rhyme to encourage passengers to find a seat.

But what if I didn’t know before?

I’ve been wondering whether we can we perpetuate the evil, even in our unknowing? Does not knowing and saying the words, carry on the diminishing?

I don’t know, but it makes me sick that I didn’t know. That this story could be so veiled to my seeing and my hearing.

It makes me sick that too many of us still don’t know.

This one thing I do know: Now that I know how these words were formed in the mouths of abusers, these words will not be spoken in my home or in my presence. I will do my utmost to educate and stop the lineage of injustice through these words wherever I can.

Structural Injustice

“My point in telling the story was the structural injustices that can so easily crop up in our life,” Ken Wytsma told me in a message. “I can grow up and sing an innocent rhyme while playing, without realizing the long history that taints the same rhyme for different people … Something can be harmless to me, but harmful to others. Bottom line, we don’t realize how much we don’t realize and we should be very humble in our place in the world and within our culture.”

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Editor’s note:

• Sunday, March 25, 2012 was observed as the fifth International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of the Transatlantic Slave Trade and is celebrated at the UN all of this week.
• Historians estimate 28 million Africans were violently removed and cast into slavery, mainly in colonies in North America, South America and the West Indies.
• Listen to an excerpt from a UN Radio interview with Prof. Naana Jane Opoku Agyemang, Vice Chancellor of the University of Cape Coast in Ghana, about the transatlantic slave trade.

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My dear SheLoves friends, I would love to hear your response:

• Did you know this dark echo in the story of this counting-out rhyme?
• Do you think it matters if we don’t know? Do you perpetuate the injustice, or not?
• Now that you know, what will you do?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

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About Idelette:

I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Image credit: Woman (Mbororo) in Foumban, Cameroon. Originally published 1919.

Living with Open Windows

[FROM OUR ARCHIVES]

“What I experience as interruptions—outages of my expectations—my fellow Chennaites often take in stride.”

By Stacy Wiebe

People in my adoptive city of Chennai, India live with their windows open. Neighbor kids dart in and out of each other’s houses. On the roads, drivers tap-tap-tap their horns to let you know they’re behind you. In church services and at weddings, children run up and down the aisles (and no one’s too distracted).

Our doorbell rings 10 times more often than it did in the US: the water delivery guy, the ironing lady, the landlord escorting a barefoot electrician in to change our lightbulbs—all within half an hour.

The 10 million people of this city are largely unruffled by the constant hum of human activity.

I’ve got a lot to learn from them.

North Americans, quite often, are planners. We like to be proactive, set goals. And when our goals get blocked and our plans get changed, we are not happy. The infrastructure and choices that frame life in North America give us at least the illusion that we’re in control. Life and time and people are things that our books tell us must be managed.

Indians tend to be fantastic adapters and improvisers. They may set goals, but they accept obstacles as well, and are ready to make adjustments. Life and time and people are often simply enjoyed in present tense.

Adapting

In our city, the electricity goes out daily for 1-4 hour intervals. When it went off in the grocery store today, there were no gasps; the shoppers just carried on, squinting at the shelves in the dark.

What I experience as interruptions—outages of my expectations—my fellow Chennaites often take in stride.

The last three years in India have been forming me into a more whole person as I see both the values and the blindspots in myself through the eyes of another culture.

Dance

It’s a dance, balancing goal-orientation with people-orientation, responding gracefully to interruptions, especially when they come in human form. Jesus is the only one who’s gotten it exactly right. When the unsightly, the broken and the desperate clamored for His time and touch, He turned towards them and gave them His full attention. He was never in a hurry. He made plans, but changed them as easily. When He suggested the disciples go away with Him for some prayer and downtime, and a huge crowd ran ahead to meet them, His heart was moved to speak with them and give all 5,000 of them dinner. Only after that did He resume His pursuit of solitude.

Another time, Jesus was on His way to Jairus’ house to heal his sick daughter, and He stopped to bring healing to the woman who touched His robe. Meanwhile, Jairus’ daughter died. But the delay provided an opportunity to draw out Jairus’ faith and demonstrate His power in speaking her back to life.

So, with Jesus as my teacher and India as my classroom, I’m learning. I can view people as goal-blockers or as people to love. I can choose to be present. To keep going in the dark. To spot opportunities in the detours. To allow delays to remind me that God’s in charge. To keep the windows of my soul open wide.

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Your thoughts?

• No matter what culture or continent we’re from, our personalities may tend towards task-orientation or people-orientation. How do you balance these in your life?
• What interruptions can you welcome in Jesus’ name?

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About Stacy:

Stacy Wiebe likes biriyani, books and things that grow. She’s lived in Chennai, India for the past three years, writing and speaking with WOW and other non-profits.