I wore black yesterday.
I wore black yesterday, because I spent the day taking care of a nine month young baby, and I want this baby to grow up in a world where
women are listened to, not shamed when they are courageous enough to tell their story
where men – yes all men! – would join us in our rage and sadness when hearing these stories, instead of going into victim position and claiming the “Not all men” (we know that), or telling us how hard it is to be a man today (it is often hard to be any kind of human, in general, but that’s not what we are talking about)
where the responsibility to avoid sexual assault (check your outfit, don’t drink too much, don’t walk home alone, don’t run in the park on your own, don’t don’t don’t……) lands not on the people being threatened by it, but on the people doing it.
I wore black because I’m angry, so angry and I don’t even know where to start or turn. And if I were to show my anger and rage publicly, I would possibly be mocked for having a tantrum, while my male colleague would be given respect for the same behavior.
I am furious over all the boundaries being crossed every second, day and night, over all the no:s never dared to be said, over all the pain shut down, in my sisters’ hearts and bodies, out of fear of speaking up.
I have a hard time breathing when I see that this fear to speak up has such good grounds. Where the truth-tellers (yes, because I always believe Her) are the ones being prosecuted, the perpetrators coddled, and not the other way around.
As part of my celebration for yesterday’s announcement of Dr Dennis Mukwege and Nadia Murad being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year, my black dress also became the symbol for the mourning of the fact that their work is even needed in this world in the first place.
I wore black for so many reasons, and even if the color of our clothes will not be the thing that changes the world…I will continue to wear everything black on Fridays as a reminder to myself – to keep the rage, to see the craziness in situations we sometimes don’t even react to because we’re so used to them, to always speak up, and to keep the hope that we have a chance for change, together. If it’s rage that’s needed for that change to happen, here we go.