The Awakened Woman

by Tererai Trent

  In celebrating my authentic “yes,” the moment when I feel my soul awaken within, I dance as I ululate to my chinyamusasure dance, the dance of my people. Slowly, in my dance, I make a circle as both my feet and hips respond to my favorite music. As the rhythm of the music picks up, my steps increase. I move with such fluidity, feeling no separation between the physical space around me and my body.

  I find my feet consciously remembering the sacred circle marking a pathway created to cement my ritual dance. I respond to my “yes” with this ancient dance and music that fills my body as I raise my hips in response to my feet. This dance pulses healing energy through my physical body as the movements I make respond to the calling of my cellular soul truth. In this moment, I am powerful, and I know my “yes” is a profound affirmation that who I am and what I bring to the world is important.

  As I move, I know Nyadenga, or the Creator, has a clarity and a purpose that includes me, that celebrates and loves me. It loves the curves of my soft flesh, the strength of my muscles, and the firmness of my bones. It revels in my laugh lines and my thinking lines equally, it rejoices in the stretch of my skin, and the sound of my bare feet hitting the floor. In body and soul, I rise to meet this love and this sacred purpose.

  Chinyamusasure is an erotic dance in the spirit of Lorde’s definition of the erotic. It is a physical expression of storytelling, a practice of learning to listen to your body. It is an expression of joy, fullness, and feminine wisdom. In chinyamusasure, you let your body speak. As you dance, your body tells a story, perhaps of your past or your future. Give your body permission to express what it yearns for. Make a circle with your movements, as wide and big or small and compact as feels right to you. Know that the circle is a safe space, a sacred enclosure with no beginning and no end. In that space, honor what your body hungers for through movement, as spirit and body become one.

  Choose any music that makes you happy, and let your physical body meet the joy of your soul. Feel the wild woman in you. As you dance, notice in what part of your body your definite “yes” resides. Now change the rhythm of your dance, moving more slowly. Where in your body do you feel your definite “no”?

  As the music comes to an end, can you determine your true “yes” about yourself, your dreams, or your life beyond what you may have been taught and conditioned to believe? Reflect on the source of this conditioning. Practice developing your “yes” and your “no” so that you are clear how to express what is true for you. Notice when your head is blocking your heart or when you are overthinking your “yes.” How is that different from when you are feeling your “yes” deep inside?

  When your body tires, pleasantly spent from the beautiful exertion of your dance, take a few moments to reflect in your journal. Before you begin writing, hold your hand over your heart, which may be beating quite fast. As your heart slows back down to its normal resting beat, hold that energy in your hand, bringing it with you as you prepare to write.

  First, describe what felt good about dancing. Where did you feel positive energy most flowing? Be detailed: What felt good? Where in your body did you feel loving energy? What color was that energy? What words would you associate with it? Take a few moments to sit in the pleasure that these reflections bring you.

  Now let us fill those more challenging parts of the body with self-love. Spend some time reflecting on any insecurity that may have come up in your dance. Where in your body did you feel pain or shame if you did feel some? Where did you feel fear or uncertainty? Name those places and those feelings in your journal if you experienced them.

  Take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Close your eyes and imagine a brightly colored pattern on a stunning white background, with bold greens, crisp blues, and deep reds in geometric shapes that feel warm and loving to you. Move this pattern from your mind’s eye down into your heart. Breathe as you imagine these bright colors and this joyful pattern expanding in your heart.

  When your heart feels full, send this image into those parts of your body that might have felt some hurt, pain, or uncertainty during your dance. Any part you do not particularly like or anywhere that is a source of struggle for you. As you continue deeply breathing, fill those perceived “challenging” parts of your body with the bright, healing colors of your heart pattern, sending love and warm energy there. You may feel your nervous system calm down and a sense of self-acceptance soothing you.

  Before you leave this space, let out an ululation. Let the world within you know that you have been in touch with the sacredness of your femininity. Then say to yourself, “I fill my body with love and dignity. I honor and respect the sacred depths of my being, the place in me where my soul’s desires meet the curves of my body. I celebrate and embrace my body and its intuition.”

  6

  LET YOUR SPIRIT TAKE ROOT: BELIEVING IN YOUR DREAMS

  There is only one history of any importance, and it is the history of what you once believed in, and the history of what you came to believe in.

  —KAY BOYLE, “WHITE AS SNOW”

  For all the many reasons we may have forgotten our dreams, we share one similarity: we stopped believing in them. Yet the power of redefining and re-creating a new narrative is grounded in our belief of who we can be, and that power is in our hands. It’s our heartfelt desire grounded in a belief—a mental state of knowing with strong conviction and certainty that we are connected to something greater than self, something sacred, something that heals the past, present, and future generations—that makes achieving our dreams possible.

  As my mother would say, “Sometimes our life is like a hut that needs to be built and perfected until it resembles the home we want to leave behind for future generations.” Before we children and young mothers could wrap our minds around her meaning, she would ask, “Is the foundation strong enough to stand the many chinyamusasure dances, the tears of joy and sorrow, and the healing that needs to take place for the hut to be a home? Does this hut have what it takes to pass on these rituals and your healing?” Remember the chinyamusasure is an erotic dance, and for my people it chronicles important historic and cultural events as well as personal milestones. Hence the floors of one’s hut, which is made of clay soils that are compacted and then polished with cow dung to give a smooth and shiny look, must be strong enough to accommodate not only the slow swirling dance that follows the rhythm of the drums, but also the impact of our bare feet as we stomp the ground.

  Thus my mother imparted to us that we are the architects of our lives. The power to change the status quo is in our grasp; how we work and believe in our efforts should be grounded in the inner knowing that we are forever on a journey to right the wrongs of the past and pave the way for future generations. My sacred sister, to right the wrongs, to heal the past, to become who we truly are, requires not only courage but also belief that our dreams are achievable in our lifetime—tinogona.

  Forgetting our greatest dreams means that we have lost our faith in them, which in turn continues to create a division between who we are and who we once dreamed we could be. We then may become indifferent, no longer seeing our purpose here on earth, or how we are connected to something bigger than ourselves. Our loss of conviction can then make our dreams quieter and quieter until we hear their sacred calling no more. Our dreams are not fund dependent, age dependent, or even skill dependent. Rather, our dreams are built on what we believe about ourselves, and the part we play in the great universal consciousness.

  Believing in our dreams is equally about the past, present, and the future. We live in a world with so many injustices for women, and yet, we also live in a historical moment that is better for women than it has ever been. We owe a debt of gratitude to those who have gone before who have helped us get to this point, and we can also gather strength from those women of the past who have transformed their belief into a better world for us today. And belief is also about honoring that legacy in our present time so generations to come will have a better future. Without belief, how is it possible to
be inspired and be able to inspire the next generation? A richer relationship between those two poles gives us hope and strength in the present, for they show us our connectedness to the greater whole.

  We all have a belief system, whether intentional or not. We may believe stories of our own inferiority or of our power. The question is, Are our beliefs worth passing on to the next generation? Are our beliefs a source of pride to those spirits from the past? Are our beliefs serving our souls in the present?

  Trusting in our dreams should make us hopeful and confident; strengthening the continuity of an unbroken thread of conviction that has been passed down to us and lays a strong foundation for future generations. In other words, belief instills confidence and a higher expectation to change the course of our lives for the better. Without that expectation we have no hope, and without hope we are useless to ourselves and to the next generation.

  I came to America irrevocably grounded in knowing I was to achieve my dreams. I knew without a shadow of doubt that I was on a journey to heal not only my past, but also my future, because my children were connected to my success. It was important to believe in my dreams so that I was connected to something bigger than myself. I trusted in the significance of that connection always. I was downright stubborn about it. My stubborn belief did not emerge from my ego: it strengthened not the small me but the sacred me, my spirit, my connectedness to the universal life force. This belief served me through many difficult times. The power you see, sacred sister, is not in the world’s belief about you but in your own. By claiming and believing stubbornly in your dream, you re-create the world. This power you have within you has the power to heal and change our world for the better, for other sacred sisters, for daughters, nieces, mothers, sisters, aunts and even sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, nephews, and uncles.

  I remember I was incredibly nervous when I took my doctoral exams, and I felt my dreams of the future weighing heavily on my shoulders. By that time I had, with great determination, hard work, and support from my mother and my community, achieved my goals of a high school diploma in Zimbabwe, and a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in America. I worried: What if I fail now when I am so close to my fourth dream?

  I could not afford to fail. I had buried my dreams under a rock as a reminder of their connection to my history and essence. I felt achieving my PhD, the highest level of education, was not only part of fulfilling that connection, but also part of claiming my power and the freedom to stand in my own skin with a strength to right the wrongs of my past. If I failed now, then how would I be able to go back to my village to educate young girls and create spaces for women to empower themselves, my sacred purpose? How would I bear fruit to all the things that my grandmother and mother believed in—the fight for women’s dignity?

  I visualized my maternal and paternal grandparents as well as my mother standing in each corner of the room, whispering to me, ululating, and supporting me. I grasped and squeezed the small rock in my pocket that I’ve carried since burying my dreams. I felt protected and present. Confident. Trusting. Fortified with a strong rootedness (the rock in my hand), and visualizing the life I wanted for myself, my children, and my community, I could then take the leap into the unknown direction of my dreams to send my voice, my stories, out into the world.

  My sisters, the choices we make to honor our belief in ourselves is a sacred thread that ties us to the most profound aspect of humanity: to a connected oneness that heals the wrongs of the world. We only thrive as a species through this belief. Belief strengthens one’s resilience and leverages the power to improve our condition, no matter where we are born and under what circumstances.

  I know that belief can be a tricky subject, especially for women, because many of us associate belief with institutionalized religion, where messages of women’s inferiority vibrate intensely—either leaving many women at odds with the dogma or making them internalize their own silencing, normalizing it like a belt securely tied to shape a waistline. To those who have no relationship with institutionalized faith practices, belief can seem like it only belongs to those who have religious affiliation, as if our belief must be filtered through an institution to be valid.

  Another reason that consistent belief in our dreams can feel so challenging is because most of us were raised in cultures that taught us to seek external validation over trusting our inner voices. We have come to accept the voices of doubt within us as the voice of reason or authority. These voices tell us that in order to be loved we must be “good,” that we must be perfect before we can even begin pursuing our dreams, that failure is a source of shame rather than simply information or a chance to learn, that speaking up for ourselves and our dreams makes us bossy or bitchy, unladylike, that we must do the “right” and “sensible” thing or risk everything.1

  From very early on, in most parts of the world, girls are raised to believe they must seek permission and authority from external sources. This has major consequences. “Our culture is teaching girls to embrace a version of selfhood that sharply curtails their power and potential,” writes author and educator Rachel Simmons. “In particular, the pressure to be ‘good’—unerringly nice, polite, modest, and selfless—diminishes girls’ authenticity and personal authority.”2 Thus we become adult women with a lifetime of experience diminishing our own inner authority, perhaps even shaming and judging other women who have somehow managed to hold on to theirs.

  In so many ways, we women find ourselves stepping over our inner authority and asking for permission outside of ourselves—and this need for external validation, whether it be for survival, love, fitting in, professional success, economic security, or whatever you most fear, can cut us off from our sacred calling.

  I am not going to say to you that the problem is women’s lack of confidence, although many of us struggle with insecurities. I’m also not going to tell you to “lean in,” as Sheryl Sandburg advises, although I encourage you to take that recommendation whenever possible. I won’t tell you these things because I know that even the most confident and charismatic person struggles to achieve their dreams in an unjust world. There are many obstacles beyond our control. Just having more confidence or speaking more in meetings is not a long-term solution to the problems we face. Instead, I want to help you see that giving yourself permission to seek your purpose in this world is a sacred, social act. This is my refrain: When you link yourself to something bigger than your individual gain, you no longer have to ask for permission, demurely waiting for someone to give you the green light. When you are tapped into a spiritual force for good you have all the permission you need to follow that path.

  We must come to know and trust an empowering belief that we can achieve our dreams, and to do this, we need to be liberated from toxic beliefs about ourselves and our potential, we need to transcend any devaluing messages that media, religious customs, or social traditions may encourage. We must learn to believe from a place of unfettered freedom and strength. My dear sisters, we must reclaim and proclaim our faith in ourselves.

  Losing My Religion, Holding My Spirituality

  Even after I buried my dreams, the direction of my life often seemed beyond my control. My emotions were unpredictable during this period, wildly fluctuating between hope and despair. Soon after I met Jo Luck, Zuda came to my mother’s village to fetch me, claiming that he had changed. He was contrite in front of my mother, and I gave in to him and to the societal pressures that encouraged my return to the marriage.

  It was a terrible decision. I learned soon enough that Zuda had not changed at all. But the difference this time was that I had changed. Despite the continued abuse, my conversation with Jo Luck and my buried dreams gave me continuous hope.

  In the worst moments, I remembered my mother’s inspiring words: “If you believe in your dreams and you achieve them, you will define who you are, as well as each life that comes out of your womb and those for generations to come.” Believe, Tererai. Believe. I clung to the words. The word
“believe” became intricately woven in me: its promise was to heal my past, and the deep wounds that I carried at the time, and to help me build a bright and beautiful future.

  I began classes in my first correspondence school, paid for by my mother’s hard-earned money. This school was not a physical building; instead, correspondence and reading materials were sent to me at home. As a former colony of Britain, to qualify for a Zimbabwean Certificate of Secondary Education Ordinary (“O”) Level, which is comparable to a high school diploma in the United States, I had to pass at least five subjects, which were graded at Cambridge in Britain.

  Due to lack of money and time to study, I could take only one class at a time and wait for my results. For me, correspondence learning required commitment, discipline, and an unstressed environment. While I had the former two, the latter proved to be difficult. Without my commitment to my faith in a better future, I have no doubt I would have abandoned my studies.

  As a newly independent country, Zimbabwe attracted the donor world and the demand for empowering women saved many families. In 1994, I had a job interview with a nongovernmental organization (NGO) based in rural areas, facing seven men and one woman. My hope was in two people in the room, one woman and one man. Both looked interested as they nodded their heads, and they would not only look at me but also at each panel member as though trying to pull them into agreement.

  I felt like I was sitting in a storytelling ritual where there are individuals who become so enthralled with the story that their buoyancy intoxicates all listeners, forcing the collective energy to center around the storyteller. The odds were stacked against me: I was a woman and I had no degree. I feared I would not get the job. On the other hand, I felt that the two panelists were rooting for me. Moreover, it was common knowledge that our newly independent Zimbabwe needed women in the labor force as part of fulfilling their donor requirement. It could go either way, I thought as I made my way home after the interview.