identity

I never felt much like an American until my first stint of living in London. in a way, I'd always distanced myself from "my country," focusing on all the ways it didn't reflect my politics or values. but after a couple of months overseas, I started to develop a better sense of the cultural differences, both subtle and obvious, between my home and my place of residence. I guess it's not such a surprise that a little bit of contrast and comparison go a long way in developing insight.

perhaps similarly, I didn't feel much like a woman--at least in body--until becoming pregnant. now I don't really mean socially or culturally here--truly I spent a lot of time thinking about what it means to live and work in our society as a woman, and these issues came up regularly in the classroom as well. but the physical experience of being a woman and living in a woman's body somewhat escaped me. I liked to think of myself as someone strong, and fast...someone who could lift furniture with the best of them.

these days I can't ignore the roundness of my body, the expanse of belly, the utter strangeness of uterine contractions that tighten up my entire torso when they come. all sensations that the men in my life will never feel or perhaps understand. the ability of the body to know how to do what the conscious mind could not ever can prompt you to wonder just how much is under our control, anyway... and in spite of the annoyances and discomforts, I feel so lucky to have had this experience.

which is not to say I'm not ready for it to be over! each day is a little harder than the previous and each day I talk to her and ask her to arrive. but even that language is wrong--she is here, with me, each and every day. I just want to know her on the outside.