I woke up in Philadelphia the other morning. I awoke in a bedroom where my friend, Cecilia, gave birth to her sweet daughter, Zella. I felt all the strong energy and warm love surrounding me with gooey vibes of positivity, and I puffed up my breast with all that wonderful lady-power, ready to start my day. I got dressed and zipped up my new gently-used boots that I’d picked up at a second-hand store specifically for this trip to the northeast, and headed out to catch my train to Atlantic City to attend the National Sex Ed Conference.
It was pretty surreal, being back in Philly again. I lived there more than a decade ago, and it was the city where I’d first performed stand-up comedy AND where I’d lived when a university first trusted me to teach my very own human sexuality courses. It was also the the city where I became pregnant with my first son. It was Philadelphia that nurtured the career woman and persona that I have become today: Sex Educator. Comedian. Baby Momma.
It was a profound realization that I had come full-circle, back to the place where it all began, as I was zipping up these new-used boots for all the cold big-city walking that I had ahead of me.
Then I noticed something.
I noticed something that I don’t normally pay much attention to.
I noticed the brand name of my boots: Me Too.
The boots. On my feet.
They read, “Me Too”.
I thought about the woman who owned them before me. I actually do this often. I love all of my wonderful housecoats that I pick up from thrift stores or that are given to me when really cool ladies pass away. I love feeling that woman’s spirit and presence in the fabric and believing that I’m channeling the fabulousness of her memory that embodies the clothes.
These boots, with these particular words on them, made me think about the not fabulous things that the previous owner experienced. Had she been assaulted? Did she have a #MeToo story to share?
I realized that I was *literally* about to walk in her shoes.
I was about to walk in her shoes to go to a conference that I couldn’t afford but was lucky enough to win a contest and have my fees paid by ASTROGLIDE. I was walking in her shoes to continue my education on more strategies to help reduce the overwhelming prevalence of violence against women. I was walking in her shoes in the very city where independence was declared, and I was walking in her shoes to go get my education in a building located right by the boarded-up pussy-grabber’s Taj Mahal tower.
I was walking in HER shoes.
Had she been grabbed?
I sat down in my wooden pew at 30th Street Station to sip my coffee and wait for my train when a notification popped up on my phone.
“Time magazine named the women who shared stories about sexual harassment and abuse through the #MeToo campaign–‘The Silence Breakers’–it’s 2017 Person of the Year.”
I was walking in HER shoes.
And SHE is the Person of the Year.
She is courageous. She is a survivor. She is no longer silent, and she is getting louder. She is gaining strength.
I am gaining strength, and I am getting louder too. I got to come to this conference to get even better at all those things that the City of Brotherly Love fostered me to be and do. I feel like I’m just getting started.
Yesterday, I met Dr. Joycelyn Elders, the former US Surgeon General who was forced to resign because she acknowledged that masturbation is a part of healthy sexuality. I also met Lizz Winstead, former head writer for the Daily Show and founder of the Lady Parts Justice League. And I met the infamous, Dr. Ruth, a survivor of the holocaust and champion of the female orgasm. I learned from other women about violence in Turkey and Mexico and India and the Middle East, and every single one of them are The Person of the Year. All of these women spoke about education and equality and human rights and reducing violence. They break the silence. Together, we amplify.
Cinderella was able to leave her abusers because HER shoe fit.
Well, this Me Too shoe fits.
HER shoes are MY shoes.
From Texas to Philly to the Atlantic Ocean and everywhere my footpaths lead…I’m going to keep learning. And fighting. And writing. And laughing. And teaching.
Because I’m on that train with you, gurl. #MeToo
Me. Fucking. Too.
#Sexed #Metoo #Timemagazine #Silencebreakers #Philly #Train #Boots #Atlanticcity #Cinderella #Violence #Education