“Female rage” a phrase so universally known any woman could close her eyes and feel the hot red rising. Female rage however is unique to each of us and made up of years of lived experiences. Mine, I know, comes from a privileged body and peaceful encounters. Mine is not like others; theirs is not like mine, but yet all are still fiery.
My female rage comes from deep in my gut. A gut that’s been weighed and measured and sucked in and withheld from for the hopes of being a forever unattainable “perfect”.
It’s held in my tight lip smile that doesn’t reach my eyes when a comment disguised as a compliment slithers and crawls under my skin.
It nags at me when I see my lines in the sand have been so quietly crossed, ever so slightly but not so innocently toed by the perpetrator. Leaving me questioning if the step was big enough to warrant a reaction.
It runs up my spine and prickles my skin like a cold chill when I have to ask myself, “Was that enough to say something about?”, self doubt choking me into silence.
It comes in flashes of videos of men on stages preaching about bodies they’ve never lived in yet still casting the blame on those bodies and all the while making inappropriate innuendos to their congregations every Sunday.
“Is it a wonder I broke? Let’s hear one more joke”
It tries to escape in conversations when my sentences are cut short by masculine voices who feel as if their voice is more important. When subjects are changed, opinions are not wanted, thoughts are not validated and ideas are never able to grow.
It boils when a hobby or enjoyment is belittled because it isn’t understood. When they say joy is only validated when it’s packaged in violence or on fields.
It’s in my eyes as I scan rooms looking for exits. Looking at others trying to see the soul within, trying to determine if there is safety or harm.
It’s in the rigidity of my body going stiff and straight as unwanted hands touch and arms wrap around.
Female rage sits quietly in my chest pressing hard against my ribs. It is often locked inside to keep me from burning bridges and setting wildfire to situations. It’s tamped down by laughs of “overreaction” hurled like bullets blowing holes into my intuition.
But at some point the key gets turned and the match strikes and the lava flows.
Female rage is in my fingers as I hold the pen and vote for a presidential candidate who sees me for more than a body, a wife, a breeding machine. It’s in the desperate cries to anyone who will hear me. To understand that my life and the lives of all women teeter on a tightrope.
My female rage is so loud it won’t let me be silent any longer.
So boooooooooooo went the wind and out went the light
It’s early this October morning and the sun is beginning to illuminate my beloved yellow house. Huckleberry sniffs the air as the fall breeze blows in a slight chill and a layer of tangible magic coats the world like morning dew. You can feel it there in the settling of your bones, the cozing of your core; autumn has arrived.
There is a hopeful peace that comes with fall. An acknowledgment of a cycle coming to an end. At the precipice of a frigid and dreary winter there is one last ember of warmth. One last season of acknowledging that all must end but the hope of knowing everything will find its way back again.
Even Mother Nature decorates for such an occasion. The trees take part with their yellow, orange and deep red leaves that twirl and gracefully float like ballerinas as they make their descent to the grass. The crisp crunch of them under boots play the symphony of harvest. Orb spiders display their elaborate lacy homes. Heavy ripe pumpkins grow fat on the vine waiting to be picked and set on display.
The whole earth comes together in preparation for the wondrous night that soon approaches. For on October 31st the veil gets lifted and us humans get a glimpse of the magic that is hiding all around us. A night that turns ordinary children into witches and pirates, superheroes and fairies. On this night doormats come to life with screeches and something is always moving in the shadows. It’s a night when stars align and adventures begin. A night when the man on the moon winks down at all that’s below and you know anything is possible.
You can feel the shift as the cool breeze sweeps in. When there is fun in the fright and the unknown is no longer scary. When you purposefully seek out the mysterious and the delicious terror is more delectable than the candy given out on doorsteps.
Here outside with my little furry dog I take a deep breath and close my eyes. All my most precious memories fill my mind. Memories of decorating for Halloween, trick or treating, going to pumpkin patches, trading candy with friends, watching Halloween movies, pumpkin carving, and the excitement of picking out a costume.
But the clearest memory is of me dressed as a pumpkin and my Mom walking with me and holding my hand as she began to sing “Five Little Pumpkins”.
“Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate
The first one said “Oh my it’s getting late.”
The second one said “There are witches in the air!”
The third one said “But we don’t care!”
The fourth one said “Let’s run and run and run!”
The fifth one said “I’m ready for some fun.”
So boooooooooooo went the wind and out went the light
And the five little pumpkins rolled out of sight.”
”I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason”
I’d love to say that the moment I met her with her curly red hair and freckles like constellations I instantly knew she’d become a constant pillar in my life and my very best friend but the truth is it didn’t exactly happen that way. In fact, after being cast in a community theater production sharing many scenes together, my character was her assistant, we didn’t really talk let alone hit it off until show week. If you get her to tell this story she’d probably tell you how we both made snap judgments of the other and didn’t really like each other the first couple of months. But even as show week came to an end and I was putting my number in her phone under “Keilee The Epic” with a bunch of emojis I had no idea that 11 years later it would still be there.
I could sit here and write a whole dissertation on Emma. I could tell you what she likes; cats, and what she doesn’t; mayonnaise, that her favorite color is not purple but actually yellow and she’s one of the few people I know who can correctly wear and rock a scarf. I could go on with the trivia style facts but that’s not really who she is. Emma is unstoppable. She is determined, a force to be reckoned with but also incredibly kind and compassionate and can make friends with anyone, including park pigeons. She’s effortlessly fun, outgoing and magnetic. Once you get to know her you’ll consider her a best friend. She’s not only passionate but proactive with those passions. She’s brave, bold and fearless, except when it comes to bugs. She celebrates with you and for you and never once undervalues your accomplishments. She is creative and talented and always makes her visions come to life. I honestly believe she could do anything she wanted and given the opportunity could solve many of the world’s problems.
Looking back through the years I can see all the scenes coming together. The insignificant mundane of life, silly rants and glamping. The accomplishments and opportunities, the quarter life crisis and fun of girlhood. Enter in the boys, the tears, losses, breakups and the banana shirt guys. The next act is full of big dreams and big moves, new jobs and thankfully quit jobs. There is comedic relief with falling in love with the same fictional characters and obsessing over Taylor Swift. Some of the scenes play out through the long FaceTime calls and several months of 8 hour time differences. Through all these 11 years I’ve gotten a front row seat to the most incredible show of them all; Emma.
She is the golden retriever to my black cat, the big city to my small town, the sweet to my sour, the Serena to my Blair, the ginger to my blonde and even though I’m the one with a love for pink she is the Glinda to my Elphaba.
Maybe I didn’t know the moment I met her in 2013 that she would be so important to me, but I’ve known every day since.
“I do believe I have been changed for the better, and because I knew you, I have been changed for good” ~Wicked
Sometimes you do have to leave the rivers and lakes that you’re used to.
A couple months ago we decided to completely ignore TLC’s words of wisdom. We booked a tiny house in the woods and set out to chase a few waterfalls.
After planning and packing we filled our little car to the brim and seemingly took the whole house with us on the two and a half hour drive. From the interstate to little twisting and turning two lane roads we traveled. We listened to an audio book, reminisced and played a few rounds of 20 Questions. Huckleberry silently alternated between watching the world go by and sleeping in the back seat. While I on the other hand alternated between excitement and being a nervous passenger who hates 18 wheelers. The hours passed and we finally made it up the mountain to Mentone, Alabama.
As chronic early birds we not so patiently waited for our check-in time to arrive. We drove into the adorable downtown and stopped at Mentone Market. We would end up visiting this market several more times on the trip. While there we grabbed lunch to go and headed to Brow Park for a picnic. This park was a look-out with picnic tables and gorgeous views. From up top I realized all those stressful little uphill roads were actually worth it.
We aimlessly drove around neighborhoods and then stumbled upon a cemetery to stop and explore. We looked for the oldest birth date which we awarded to 1834 before it got too hot and we went to check-in.
For years Mom and I have said we wanted a tiny house. As eclectic maximalists this is a far fetched fantasy but it was so fun getting to experience tiny house living for a few days! Our adorable house “Hikers Haven” was the perfect blend of modern and cozy. The twinkle lights lining the path to the fire pit and the large front porch made the outdoors just as charming as the inside. Huckleberry felt right at home and immediately curled up on the couch as we unpacked. With a fully equipped kitchen we cooked dinner and afterwards cozied up on the couch with popcorn and watched our new obsession Madam Secretary.
One of the reasons we chose to stay in Mentone were all the beautiful trails and waterfalls at Desoto State Park and Little River Canyon. On the first full day of our trip we packed our lunch and headed out to the trails. We visited the Desoto County Store to grab a trail map and started the day with the easy “Talmadge Butler Boardwalk”. It was so beautiful and tranquil. Afterwards we headed to “Lost Falls Trailhead”. After spotty cell reception and getting lost a couple times we decided to pivot and head out to Little River Canyon. We drove down the “Scenic Drive” and stopped at a look-out for lunch. Then it was time to see what we came here for; waterfalls! “Little River Canyon National Preserve” had stunning views of the waterfall. They even had a trail that led out to the top rocks of the waterfall but Huckleberry was such an excited mountain goat we decided not to chance it and potentially have him jump down in the water reenacting Pocahontas.
We drove back to our tiny house (about 25 minutes) and spent the rest of the late afternoon on the patio playing games, reading and catching up on social media. The weather was lovely and Huckleberry loved watching the leaves float down in the cool breeze. Although we had planned a meal for every night of the stay we decided to mix it up and get the highly recommended (by past visitors in the tiny house guest book) Chicken and Bacon Ranch Pizza from Mentone Market, and I’m SO GLAD we did! 10/10 would recommend!
Mentone is a lovely little town and there were a few shops on Main Street but with Huckleberry being with us we didn’t have a chance to stop in. There were two separate restaurants we’d heard incredible things about that even had porch eating to accommodate pets but before planning the trip we didn’t look at their hours of operation and they were unfortunately closed while we were there. We’re definitely looking forward to trying those on our next Mentone trip!
It was back at the trails again for the second full day! We started with a walk around Desoto Falls Picnic Area that had not only a dam but three waterfalls! It was breathtaking! The stairs leading back up to the picnic area had beautiful mosaic art with a quote by John Muir.
We then continued the hiking adventure by hiking down “Indian Falls Trail”. This was a bit difficult and left me exhausted because of the aforementioned Huckleberry in excited mountain goat mode. He loved racing down the pine needle and leaf covered rocks and in the process pulling me down with him.
After this treacherous journey it was back to the tiny house for lunch, playing the Switch in the master bedroom and a late afternoon on the patio. It was the chilliest of the days so we had chicken taco soup with cheese and chips. Everything about the tiny house was so cute and cozy. From the faux fireplace heater to the second bedroom loft. The aqua and yellow color scheme was so cheerful and they had every amenity you’d need, including a Ninja coffee maker (which I was most grateful for). Even though we were in a new town in the woods we felt completely safe in our tiny home!
While Huckleberry is a bit crazy around the edges, really what Miniature Australian Shepherd isn’t, he was incredible during the trip! Of course he loved the long car ride but I was pleasantly surprised at how well he adjusted to the tiny house. He didn’t miss a beat and while we unpacked he settled in and felt right at home! In fact, he didn’t bark once on the whole trip, well except for that one time during lunch when a loud car pulled up to look-out, but that was understandable. The fact that a dog who regularly barks at the mailman, suspicious squirrels in the yard, loud trucks and more multiple times a day didn’t make one peep on this whole four day trip is astonishing! Besides camping this was our first trip with Huckleberry and he added so much joy! Mom and I had fun together, we always do, we even have fun just running errands together. Turning our duo into a trio made it all the more enjoyable!
The last morning packing up, loading up the car, locking up and saying goodbye to the tiny house was a bit bittersweet!
We breathed in mountain air, explored a little town, got lost in the woods, found beautiful treasures in nature, ran our tire into a hole, laughed hard, tired out an ever energetic puppy, played games, lived in a tiny house, hiked until our legs were sore, began planning our next trip and made wonderful memories chasing waterfalls.
“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul alike.”- John Muir
“Hold on to spinning around, confetti falls to the ground, may these memories break our fall”
~Long Live ~ Taylor Swift
Soon it will all be over. The music will fade and foil stars will catch in the light one last time. The lights will start to dim and the theater will be quiet. Soon the doors will be locked and all of the sparkling glitter will be neatly swept up and thrown away. All of it over, gone without a trace.
But before the joyful children stop grabbing handfuls of sparkles and throwing them in the air, before it’s brushed off clothes and out of hair, before the cleaning crew starts to work on the glittering task, it shines brightly.
In THIS moment it cascades down in shining stars of assorted sizes and rainbow colors.
All the colors that bring back so many memories.
That bright blue that is like the Elsa dress I wore that spring day in 2015 that unbeknownst to me would change the trajectory of my life forever.
The yellow that is like the little bumblebee costume I wore on that same stage almost 2 decades ago. The costume I was wearing when I first fell in love with performing.
The silver that is like the mic taped to my face the first time I wore one on stage in my first leading role when I was 11.
The white that is like the door in the background of my first YouTube video; one of a 7 year old me singing and dancing to a “Wizards Of Waverly Place” song.
The green that is like the Ariel skirt I wore in the photo I used to debut my company when I was 16.
The purple that is like the color of my Disney Princess CD player as I placed the new self titled “Taylor Swift” album inside, getting ready to passionately perform “Picture To Burn” in front of my bedroom mirror.
The red that is like Dorothy’s iconic shoes on stage as I sat in my Mom’s lap when I was three. In that same auditorium, I was mesmerized watching a play for the first time.
The gold that is like the shiny hinges on the handmade chest turned dress up box my grandfather made for me when I was growing up.
The pink that is like the feathers on my boa as I dressed like a “Popstar” for career day in kindergarten.
With the disco ball turning, the crowd cheering and the show coming to an end it only seems fitting to have those little star shaped memories collected over the decades raining down on me. All the moments that seemed so inconsequential at the time but all collectively bringing me here. Here on stage living out my childhood dreams and being covered in rainbow confetti.
