Mouse

I sat in the midst of three men during chapel that don’t believe women should be leaders in the church or maybe even church. The speaker talked strictly of women being able to be spiritual leaders and prophets in the church. I knew how uncomfortable they were and they were a direct opposition to me just sitting there because I feel called to be a speaker of the truth and a spiritual leader. I sat in the middle of them and I felt like a mouse. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel like a pillar standing tall between them but I felt small and powerless. I held my chin up but it didn’t help: they still felt taller. I felt powerless and tiny, and I felt like that was logical and of course I felt that way: I’m a woman, and that thought and that feeling of being a mouse made me sick. Made me ashamed and feel like a lower inadequate being. I felt owned. I felt like a slave. And I wanted to melt into the ground, sink under the floorboards, and that too made me hate myself even more. Hate myself for being a woman and therefore a mouse.

10/19/11