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sub•ver•sive [adj.] : seeking or intended to subvert, undermine, overthrow, or challenge an established system, institution or authority.
Since before first breath I have been a challenge, my very coming into this world was a rebellion. I was assigned so many rules from the moment I left the womb – starting with the most pervasive: “woman”. An entire set of rules unto itself. Based on one tiny nib of flesh that is part of the beating, living ecosystem that is this body of mine. My home. It wasn’t always. Or at least, I couldn’t recognize it through the collection of rules I acquired through my growing. Growing. Such a natural, wild act – or it should be. Tries to be. In this structure they say supports our society, to “grow” is to collect rules. But society: a plant or animal community – is the most natural of states of being. Not a structure needing to be forced, maintained; not a wall against collapse. It is our most visceral instinct – to connect. Not a barrier but an embrace.
How remarkable that to connect, we must deconstruct. To connect, we must abandon the rules. “Woman”. “Girlfriend.” “Straight.” “Monogamous.” “Sexy.” “Professional”. “Intelligent.” “GOOD”. “Normal.” My list of rules they gave me – no – hammered into me – could go on for kilometers, wrapping around the world a million fold, until I finally, freeingly collapsed under their weight. And in collapsing from the rules, I collapse society! Such power they give me while simultaneously declaring me dependent. Ridiculous. Wrong. And such power I have, in simply daring to exist! Or more than to exist, to be alive! At home in this sacred, holy temple, this connected body of mine. Such power – for it is not just mine. My rule-less, structure-less, disordered self is an open ocean of connection. Of community. And in community, a deafening choir of voices claiming freedom.
Our anger is sacred. Our lawless bodies are holy. We are angels. Our lives are a holy rebellion.