In early December 2013, for health
reasons I was informed by not one (1), but 3 doctors that I should have my womb
removed. So I did. Now, I didn’t go through any of that, "oh dear, my womb is
gone so am no longer a woman" Pity Party downloads, Nah, I am very confident of
my womanhood and understand that it’s not dependent on removal of my parts. Instead I was curious – looking forward to the
cessation of pain, menopause and …. PMS.
Yes, PMS. For years I had been told as a
woman that I should control my PMS –
that I should ignore it, or kill it, or drug it, restrain and rope it in and govern it, or not
give in to the wild mood swings. There are thousands of links online on how we
women should wrestle our PMS into submission and total extermination.
Blah.
Let me tell you why. As long as you’re a
woman, ‘thou shalt PMS’. As long as
you’re born with a womb, ‘thou shalt PMS’.
And I’m not joking here – I’m serious. It’s like when you need to pee and it
may be ill-timed - you may be sitting in a horrid traffic snarl up an hour away
from the office – or riding in a Bus 5 hours away from the nearest PEE STOP. Either
you pee into your water bottle (if your car has tinted windows) … or if you’re
like me, you will hound the bus driver to stop and before the damn vehicle has halted, you’ve run behind a bush, hiked
up your skirts or pulled down your trousers, and let go of that hot jet stream of
pee with a sigh of utter relief,
right under a sign posted Usikojoe hapa.
(No Public Pissing Here).
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But as long as
you’re holding your pee in, it distresses, it’s inconvenient, annoying and painful. You can’t do anything but think about it – and – it doesn’t help
when someone tells you that you shouldn’t have drank so much water, or tea, or
coffee, or whatever. (ukweli I hate those know-it-all-types!!)
Just like all those articles that tell
us how to avoid PMSing… don’t do this and don’t do that, you shouldn’t do this
and you shouldn’t do that. You should drink this and shouldn’t drink that, or
don’t eat this and don’t eat that. And a thousand other tidbits of totally useless info. I tell you this because I’ve
been there, done that, worn the t-shirt and made the video.
Blah.
All crap.
Let me tell you something else that
struck me as funny, as in funny hahahaha
sarcastic humour, but also hilarious because of the foundational truths.
As women, we understand at a soul level that we are women who
go through deep emotions that are specific
to the female human psyche. That we’re very DIFFERENT from the male species. Hold on… I’m not throwing shit
into the fan…. Stay with me… So, at soul
level, understand that we’re a different species. Yet, to ‘fit in’, to conform to world standards, to conform to culture, to modern world trends, to be
chained to what’s right and refined and accepted, the MALE persona is epitomized
– and we’re told to behave like men, to control our moods, to be tough
like a man, in each and every area of our lives.
The female essence - acting like one in any
form - is stepped on, downtrodden, thrown out of boardrooms and the bones of
the female essence burnt and ground into ashes.
Women look up to women who are like men,
who think like Men, are aggressive, tough and look like they don’t fart. Men
tell their daughters that to survive in the world they must be ‘tough, firm,
kill their emotions, fight and punch like a man and stand strong’. Do I hear an
Amen?!!
Yet, in contradiction, as Professional as we may be, as successful as we
are as women, when we act like men we’re derided behind closed doors or over
cups of coffee or a shared bottle of congratulational
Whiskey for your promotion - by the same men that claim to admire us – that we’re
too Mannish, too brazen; we’re insulted
with words like: - you’re too forward, you’re not gentle, you’re aggressive and
abrasive. “Woman, you ACT like a MAN!!”. And the worst jab for many women is, ‘you’re
not wife material, you think and act like
a man too much’. And they troop off and marry the girly-girl next door….
Sigh.
So back to PMS. Before I got my womb
removed and it was tossed into some hospital incinerator, or bottled in a glass
jar full of Formica fluid for med students to study a true case of womb
scarring caused by Chronic Endometriosis , (I really don’t know or care what
they did to it) – I had gone through my fair share of trying to pin point and
pin down exactly what PMS was because it was driving me insane…and the truth
made me even madder...
It’s basically simple. Hormones.
To simplify it more – it’s what makes us
female.
PMS can be bothersome - it distresses,
it’s inconvenient and annoying. It’s also Painful. And like the Pee Situation
up there - you can’t do anything but think about it – and – it doesn’t help
when someone tells you - you shouldn’t
have drank milk, or tea, or coffee, or whatever…
And no man can ever, get that. They can be sympathetic, they can sit with you and
make small noises at the back of their throats, your man can change his
timetable to go with your swinging moods, he can buy you chocloate and bring you hot water bottles to cuddle, but Hun, they can’t get it. The man may be your boss, your
father, your brother, pastor, Best Male Friend, your FF, BFF or you could have
demoted him and FriendZoned him. Whatever, just understand this: HE will NEVER
understand the rush of hormones that floods your entire blood system. Hormones that truly, are there for a specific reason.
I say this because I don’t PMS anymore.
I’m living on memories ingrained and
stamped into my brain. I don’t swing my moods anymore. And I can’t. So I KNOW that men cannot
understand this and lay men shouldn’t try to diagnose or to suggest
methods to dismiss PMS. Just like I have no idea how it feels like to have sperm
shooting out of my penis because I don’t have one. Simple.
What I do know is that we women must understand
and accept that PMSing is an innate and personal part of us, so rather
than try to exterminate it like it’s a swarm of cockroaches invading our inner
parts, we can look at it like what it truly is, a female hormonal trigger that we can learn to ride. Yes,
learn how to either surf it like riding ocean waves, or ride like a bicycle or Super
Bike, or maybe more like an everyday Nairobian task - learning how to drive a
car and navigating the city. Learning the routes of our inner city. Knowing that at certain times, in
certain places, there is a traffic build up and how to avoid it by either leaving home real early or leaving the office
pretty darn late.
Beware - not listening to our inner
selves results in us acting out. Acting
out includes being stressed emotionally and in pain physically - because, subconsciously,
our bodies still don’t want to do what our cultured, sterile, evolutionized conscious self says we MUST. We mustn’t, we are
told, behave like animals. We mustn’t we are told, give in to our shemotions… we must learn to CONTROL OURSELVES!!! We must be plastic Barbies!
Again - Blah.
A Biology Lesson
As women, as members of the female species, we are made to procreate. Our entire bodies are made for – procreating, from boobs down to our
wombs.
Our menstrual cycle revolves around getting
pregnant and giving birth. When we ovulate, our bodies know that we’re ready
for making babies and sexing – the body begins preparing for receiving a new
creation and there’s a build up of blood in our womb to embrace and nourish the
Ova, and our vaginal mucus becomes smoother and more receptive to accepting spermatozoa.
Externally, an ovulating woman is beautiful, her eyes sparkle, her skin glows,
she has a spring to her step, she’s extremely social and she gives off certain
pheromones that males are highly attracted to. Her lover will stick closer to
her and she will want more sex; she will be fun, social, sexy, horny and
bubbly.
A few weeks later, when she’s not ‘pregnant’…
her body sulks.
After all, it was getting ready to be – pregnant.
So her body frets and asks… ‘what did we do wrong?’
The woman becomes:- irritable,
depressed, unsatisfied with anything, wants to sit in a corner and puzzle over
her lack of ‘creating’.
She craves
solitude while she works things out.
Get this: for those in the creative world - it is the BEST time to be creative. To draw, paint, write music,
write poetry, make pottery, make a quilt, dig the earth, go to the shamba and plant something. It’s a time of seclusion, of looking inwards, a time of
deep meditation, of listening to your ‘inner soul’ and of birthing a work of Art.
It’s the time when we think up innovative solutions to previously insurmountable
problems, when we create a flawless business plan, when we put a sign on our foreheads
and on office doors stating Do not Disturb us, and we mean it,
it’s the time when we brainstorm and put on our thinking caps and anyone who
crosses our paths that does not understand this deep inner need to dig into our
subconscious selves is swatted like a fly – albeit with our sharp feminine tongues.
It’s a time when women shun frivol talk and frivolities, whether in dress or in
manner, when she wants to dig into her inner core, when discussions about the
true meaning of life are more tolerated than what shade of mauve is best suited
for her best friends upcoming wedding.
PMS is about understanding that you’re
beautifully made and that your femininity is an essential part of you. When your
body is doing what is supposed to be
doing. We should not stop it, but
instead help it.
If… in the work place, our male (and
female) bosses would understand this: that this
is the time when ideas are popping out of my head like bullets pumping out of the
South African R4 Assault Rifle – how much easier it would be – being ‘released’
to create and birth something beautiful and wonderful in solitude, rather than
the hostile or sarcastic leers, ‘why are you so rude today, oh – you’re PMSing –
HEY - Everyone – leave her alone!!’
Like we have a contagious disease. Hmpf!!
During PMS , we’re highly sensitive to
certain foods, smells, moods and attitudes of those around us and, the weather. Our bodies cry out – I don’t
want that food in me right now – our taste
buds actually revolt!! Or .. I can’t stand that
person and their attitude today. We
either want to strip naked or not wear underwear, or wrap ourselves up in
blankets and mourn the loss of – yes –
not being pregnant. So to solve this,
our minds go into overdrive to create and birth something else that is a part
of us. Hence the intense art, poetry, writing, architecture, engineering
solutions and profound business models from – women.
Hmmm….
I learnt to do something really weird. To listen to myself. To my inner,
deeper, exceedingly wiser woman within. If my inner self said, don’t eat this, even though I’d been binging
on the same like a starving mangy dog for weeks before, I’d listen. I stopped listening to popular
culture, to the cultivated chit chat found in elegant sanitized coffee shops
devoid of character, I stopped accepting the popular, the in-thing, the must-do’s
of the masses and the intelligence of Google. Instead I learnt to listen to my
totally unique and gorgeous ME. After all, I’m one in a trillion (what’s the
world population??) and my solution was my
solution.
And you too.
Learn to negotiate your inner
traffic. Only you can. Accept that it’s
you, and even if you run to the Sahara Desert or to Antarctica, you’ll still
carry yourself there and your PMS will still roll round in 25 days or so.
Listen to what your inner hormones say and let your body do ‘it’s’ thing. If you hold in your shit
for too long - you become full of shit, and no amount of pills and over-the
counter or homemade or natural remedies are going to make that shit go if you
don’t go and shit it out. And
trying to deaden and remove your essential complex woman nature will result in
you being full of crap – crap in this case meaning – lol, crap - Unwanted, useless, stinking and to be avoided. Neither is a
bunch of anti-depressants going to help you to be ‘un-depressed’. You will be
either, like I was, hooked on drugs and a synthetic plastic remedy, or turn
into something that is a caricature of our feminine selves. With PMS, the only solution is your unique body’s solution, and it begins with acceptance.
It’s a peaceful place to be, accepting
that we ARE women AND prone to be PMSing every
20 - 25 days or so…. Accepting it with a smile. Releasing that breath you’ve been holding in for so long. Simple
breathe out gently. So your friend is
PMSing? Hun, love her and let her be,
because that rush of hormones is, as you know – so overwhelming. Don’t huff –
breathe out gently.
Menstrual Huts
… There was this male MP in Russian Parliament
who suggested last year, that women shouldn’t work when on their menstrual period because
they should ‘rest’ and deal with their raging hormones. And because the idea
came from a man… it was decried and labeled Sexist. Feminists poured out of the
woodwork and insulted him for daring to suggest that they couldn’t work or handle
their responsibilities while on their periods, and I remembered thinking, Wow -
If a woman had made that statement, men would have been up in arms and argued
that she’s an instigator simply looking for more paid time-off work. But, despite
Feminists cries, the proposal was passed
as Law. Kudos. Now the body can mourn
the loss of it not birthing and all the shemotions
that cling to it. Not only Russia, but
in the Philippines, in Korea, in Japan and in Indonesia, there are laws that
entitle the woman to ‘go on leave during her menstrual cycle’.
In the deeply riveting book The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M
Auel, the main character Alya, learns with shock that during her menses, she
cannot be with the ‘tribe’ and is physically chased away. However, after her
menses have passed, she in welcomed
back into the tribe. In time she gets to love these times when she can leave her
chores and just ‘be’.
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| ZULU Menstrual Hut |
Thousands of
ancient cultures, and others - some in
our beautiful Africa til present day - give
the woman space to be a woman – to take
time out in ‘Menstrual Huts’. While some believe women were banned from social
life because of the ancient male belief that a bleeding woman was a fiercely powerful
spiritual being that could kill them on sight (I don’t blame them… PMS rages can
cause us to kill annoying mates!!) - men feared this inexplicable magic –
the ability to bleed for days and not die, Lmao – it intrinsically should be
regarded as a time for the woman to reach inwardly to her core, her woman-ness,
her female self, a time of communion
with other women, or a time of solitary reflection, soul-searching, meditation
and prayer.
Alas, in modern culture, we’re told to
take an anti-depressant Pill to stop us from acting-out and level us into the
playing field of being like a plastic Barbie. We’re told that our PMSing is a
curse from Eve and we should fight it or just grin and bear it. What nonsense. Throw in that we shouldn’t
ACCCEPT IT or talk about it
And that is what makes us PMS more - words and crap advice that STESS us, and stop
us from accepting who we really are.
You see, Self Acceptance of who we are is not only exhilarating – there is
a beautiful side effect - once we stop struggling, stop arguing, stop wrestling
with our essential natures, once we put down our weapons of mass self-destruction
- there is no more war –
And what’s an end of war? No more
fighting. And when you stop fighting what cuts?
A peaceful state of being.
You’re at peace within yourself and at peace with
yourself –
… and seriously, an end to PMS.
Nyakio
Munyinyi for the xPensive Report © March 2014
(I miss my PMS – because that’s when I would
be moodily, beautifully, intensely creative.
I don’t miss the cramping though)
Thankfully, there are those women who
have said NO to being plastic-anesthetized-little-fake dolls:-
The Red Tent movement began with a book by
Anita Diamant. - Her name is Dinah. In the Bible, her life is only hinted at in a
brief and violent detour within the more familiar chapters of the Book of
Genesis that are about her father, Jacob, and his dozen sons. Told in Dinah's
voice, this novel reveals the traditions and turmoils of ancient womanhood--the
world of the red tent. It begins with the story of her mothers--Leah, Rachel,
Zilpah, and Bilhah--the four wives of Jacob. They love Dinah and give her gifts
that sustain her through a hard-working youth, a calling to midwifery, and a
new home in a foreign land. Dinah's story reaches out from a remarkable period
of early history and creates an intimate connection with the past. Deeply affecting, The Red
Tent combines rich storytelling with a valuable achievement in modern
fiction: a new view of biblical women's society.
I personally love the picture here of
the interior of a modern Menstrual Hut and seriously…
I am going to make one for both my
daughters, their friends and my future daughter in law and any woman who needs
a place where she can curl up and just be herself.
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| https://mlkshk.com/p/WT2A |
Hilarious READ http://themomalog.com/2012/08/16/the-menstrual-hut/
For more profound reading: The sacred
womb : http://wombhealing.com/sacrmen.htm
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