In Transition

when angelina jolie got a mastectomy,

every guy had their say in what they thought she did wrong with her body,

saying she wouldn’t be beautiful anymore,

but beauty doesn’t trump life,

and no one owes beauty to anybody.

When they told me in middle school that if I shaved my legs,

grew my hair out,

and wore more makeup,

that I would be more beautiful,

I wish I would have told them,

that I didn’t owe anyone anything,

and my body is mine to love,

it’s not yours

or his

or hers

or theirs

my body is mine to love,

and I don’t owe your form of beauty,

to anyone.

I am a two year old world atlas,
and your definition of beauty hasn’t been invented yet in my body,

and I am still finding who I am,
and I am still figuring out which way points to my heart,
and I am still trying to discover my own beauty

so don’t try to sell me

mold me

and change me

because I owe you zero percent of my body.

1. There will be several days that you daydream about stepping in front of a city bus. Don’t. It will not be beautiful. It will not be brave. It will be selfish. It will be broken. Your mother will cry.

2. Don’t write for him. Write for you. Write for others like you. Write so the girl that thinks about stepping in front of public transportation doesn’t. Don’t be selfish.

3. When you will yourself to sleep and it doesn’t come- get up. It doesn’t matter that it’s 3 am. There will be other 3 am’s. Take a shower. Take two. Wash him out of your hair. Write a poem. Read the same book you’ve read 202 times again. The 203rd time might tell you something different. Don’t stay in bed- you will think about the bus again.

4. Don’t kiss him because he’s broken. Don’t kiss him because his laughter never reaches his eyes. Don’t try and fix him. Fix yourself first. Be selfish. He can’t save you.

5. Date yourself. Take yourself out to eat. Don’t share your popcorn at the movies with anyone. Stroll around an art museum alone. Fall in love with canvases. Fall in love with yourself.

6. Dress up and wear red lipstick and get drunk with your friends. They’re the ones that will pick you up. Don’t kiss him. Or him. Don’t fall asleep on strange couches with strange boys. When his hand slides up your dress walk away. Hit him. Don’t kiss him. He can’t save you.

7. Get another tattoo. Get five more. Get another hole in your ear. Don’t listen to your dad. You will still be able to get a job. Did you really want to be employed by someone like your father? Haven’t you had enough of judgmental old white men anyway? Get fuck you tattooed in tiny letters on your hip.

8. When you feel the yearning for a new city- start over. Take 200 bucks and a three suitcases. Work anywhere that will have you. Meet strange people and forget your name. Call yourself Ruby. No one will know the difference. Remember to call your mother. Don’t be selfish. Come home when you find yourself in the strangers and the small one bedroom apartment.

9. Don’t whisper evil things into your own ear. Other people are going to shout them at you. Be your own hero. Keep a sword on your key ring.

10. Don’t step in front of a city bus. It will not be beautiful. Live. Stay up all night with a boy that promises you everything and means it. Live. See shitty local bands with a friend. Wear a different band’s t-shirt. No one will care. Live. Have a baby girl with tiny fingers and tiny toes someday. Pour love into her until it’s overflowing. Live. Wake up. Staying in bed all day is not poetic.

Live. Live.

Live.

Do you hear that? It’s me. It’s your life. Wake up.

you tell me that the church is a building,
with deacons and a preacher,
you tell me that this building is made up of wood and cement and insulation in the walls,
with paint and pictures hanging on the halls
you tell me that the church meets on wednesdays and sundays
and that it takes up communion the first service every month
you tell me that the church is opening up the bible
and memorizing the scriptures and singing a few hymns

but those places have always felt too cold for me,
too worn out,
and my heart has always felt too out of place with the structure
that forgets the broken

the church I have seen is in the hearts of the broken, the abandoned, the ones forgotten in the back of the classrooms
and coat closets,
the church I have seen is the home to the believers and unbelievers alike, and the doors are open on more days than just two,
it’s made of broken limbs and broken hearts,
shattered windows and shattered dreams
it’s made of tears and lost memories
it’s made of every forgotten promise and the weight of the burdens we’ve carried since before we can remember
the church I have seen doesn’t just meet on certain days,
but it meets in our brokenness
in the hospital room of the drug addict that just overdosed
in the car accident of the drunk driver
in the delivery room of the prostitute who doesn’t know whose child she is holding
in the arms of the teenager who has never known his parents
in the broken heart of the woman who just lost her husband to leukemia
and it doesn’t just take communion once
but everyday
by loving
and living like Jesus was actually someone who placed his feet on this earth
instead of just walking out the door after drinking the grape juice and stale cracker,
and hitting their kid

the church is more than just the structure
but chaos that loves in all it does
the church doesn’t abandon
doesn’t hate
doesn’t boast
doesn’t create boundaries
doesn’t forget
and it doesn’t leave behind those we don’t understand

the church should love in all it does

Seriously, if we believe a 14 year old is too immature to know how to take a pill, do we really think she’s adult enough to handle an unwanted pregnancy?

The truth is that the age restriction is completely arbitrary, tied only to our puritanical comfort levels. And listen, I get it; I think it’s fair to say that most people are uncomfortable with the idea of a 14 year old having sex. But here’s the thing - access to Plan B isn’t about keeping a 14 year old from having sex - by the time she gets to the pharmacy, that ship has sailed - it’s about keeping a 14 year old who has already had sex from getting pregnant. And despite what urban legend (or past embarrassing FDA memos) may tell you, making emergency contraception more available is not more likely to make young teens have sex - it will just make them less likely to end up pregnant.

We can’t let our discomfort with teen sex trump young people’s right to sexual and reproductive health and we can’t continue to let politics trump science. If we care about young women’s health and bodily autonomy and integrity, we’ll drop all age restrictions from emergency contraception. Anything less isn’t just illogical - it’s immoral.