Vagina, Vagina, Vagina

This semester at Vesalius College the study abroad students decided to introduce Brussels to the Vagina Monologues...and you know what? I think we shocked them.

I am really not sure what possessed me to do so (because I do not, let me repeat, do NOT act), but I volunteered myself to take part in a monologue and was selected for the monologue about hair... pubic hair, that is.
The whole cast ended up being 14 women, 13 being students and 1 female professor, from all over the globe. It was beautiful, it was strong, it was raw... it was empowerment.

Honestly, I went to 1 rehearsal and practiced a bit before the actual performance, but just memorizing the words of my monologue telling women that they can call the shots for themselves- even in the never-ending question, to shave or not to shave?- has changed my heart and my mind about the way I view myself and the way women view themselves in general.

I'll be frank and say that I have never loved my body or been absolutely thrilled about the way I look. (honestly, what girl does?) There are always things that I think I could do better at, or work harder towards..

But, vagina monologues opened my eyes to something that I think we as women miss.

We are beautiful. We are unique. We are strong.

I spend plenty of time critiquing myself and the way I look or the way I act, but I rarely spend time considering my character, my drive, my accomplishments.

We have endured.

I can't count the number of times I have been let down by friends, heart broken by men (I prefer the term boys for these individuals though), and disappointed by family or role-models.
People always refer to scars as beautiful because they tell a story of recovery, of overcoming... well, I would like to offer the same analogy to women. Some of us are stone-cold because of injustices we have been exposed to far too early and far too often in life. Some of us are guarded because of incessant heartbreaks.

We are imperfect, but we are beautiful.

One of the girls read a poem by Maya Angelou that I think every woman needs to hear:

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Ladies, think about that next time you step in front of a mirror and start criticizing..
you.are.phenomenal.

Maybe Not Paradise

As much as I thoroughly enjoy my time in Brussels, especially now that it is Spring and there is warmth in the air and color on clothing (seriously, au revoir drab colors, hheellooo pastels!)... but sometimes I am subtly- or not so subtly- reminded that I do not live in paradise.

Let's just say that the past 24 hours have been one of those humbling, come-to-Jesus days.

Back-track, background information:
Wednesday, March 28, 2012:
I have a paper due on Thursday at 11AM. True to old-fashioned, very-typical Sarah ways, I procrastinated a bit on this assignment and began research for it on.. Monday.
I should probably note that the assignment was a 3000 world paper on social media and how it is used in governmental and political situations. I should also note that at MTSU, I receive paper assignments with a page count, not a word count. For whatever reason I just assumed that 3000 was a mere 5-6 page paper.
Boy! Was I wrong... 3000 words is more along the lines of 10-12 pages. Never in my life...
Back to the story. So Wednesday I am in pure journalist mode; I researched and typed the entire day away.

Thursday, March 29, 2012:
The LAST day of work and class before Spring Break! 
I wake up slightly stressed because I still have to neaten up my paper a bit and print it off between my 8AM and 10:30AM classes. I quickly get ready, throw my computer in my bag and rush at the door. 
Paper turned in, success. All my travel information printed, check. 

And here is where everything gets a bit interesting...
for those of my readers who do not know, I live with 3 other girls. We have a blast together and mesh so well, it must have been a divine culmination of people. I know myself to know that I don't get along with just anyone, let alone 3 anyones. However, for Spring break, we all made different travel plans. Charlotte jetted off to the Bahamas with her boyfriend for 3 weeks. Riikka hopped on a plane to Ibiza, Spain on Thursday morning for a week. Annelise is headed to Paris on Friday evening, and then on Wednesday she leaves for Norway for a few days. I am headed to Paris on Saturday morning where I would meet up with Yonseili and Kyle and continue on to London, Edinburgh, and Dublin.

More to the story, the 4 of us girls share 3 keys.. we have had minor slip-ups this semester where one without a key comes home to no one and has to sit patiently in Exki for another roommate to come home.. certainly not the end of the world. 
Except this time. 
One of our keys is in the Bahamas, and one in Ibiza, leaving one for Annelise and I to share on Friday until we headed off for vacation.
 
On Wednesday evening I had decided that AnneLise could take the key for the day, because I had work at school to do and plenty of errands to run to keep myself busy all day, and AnneLise had left the key for me because she would be at work all day. Except there was a slight gap in communication.

So, on Thursday afternoon, I text Annelise and tell her to let me know when she arrives home so that I can get it and I get the response... "you are keyless? I have no key. I left it for you." Uh oh. 

Well, being the bright individuals we are, we coordinate for a locksmith to come and open the door and concur to split the charge among the 2 of us. So, we sit outside and wait for the locksmith to come and he arrives with a piece of flimsy paper (so THAT'S how they open doors here...hmm). He tries and tries for about 20 minutes then gets angry with us for deceiving him because this door is a high-security door, not a slap-shut door. He says he has another appointment, but he will come back and drill the lock out, replace it, give us 1 key so we would have to get 2 copies made, and charge us an evening service charge for a small fee of 500€. 

500EURO!!!

No, no.. that just won't do. We brainstorm.  
Landlord? Now, we have enough trouble communicating with him because he old speaks French, and we only speak un petit peu of conversational French. Certainly not enough to explain that we have no key available to us. But, we manage.. only to find out that he has no spare.
Break a Window? No, then we'd have to pay the price for a brand new specialty window and miss out on our vacation because of waiting for someone to order and fix window.

Then, light-bulb. 
Riikka can overnight her key to us!
So, we call Riikka, who should be relaxing on the beach. However, she is a bus ride away from the main city center and it is too late in the afternoon. Shipping will have to wait until tomorrow morning, still a weekday, no problem.
Oh, except Spain is having a GENERAL STRIKE this weekend, slowing down every industry. We find out that even priority, overnight, express, quick as you freakin can still won't arrive until Tuesday. 

Deep Breathe.

Both of our bladders are close to bursting, so first things first... we ask our only French-speaking neighbor to use her restroom. SUCCESS. Both of us even have a small conversation with her about losing our key and the landlord not having a spare. Yeah, we're basically fluent. (eh..)

So, Annelise and I drag our exhausted and distraught selves to her friend Jean-Remy's house who is gracious enough to host us for the weekend. Between the two of us we have 4 pairs of tights, 2 pairs of socks, a dress, 2 sweaters, a leather jacket, 2 pairs of underwear, a toothbrush, deodorant, a laptop with charger, an iPhone and charger, and all of my travel information for 2 weeks.

Impressive, no? 
The only thing we lack is Annelise's phone charger and both of our passports. Oh.. and enough clothes for a week or two.

sometimes all you can do is laugh

We make drinks, Jean-Remy makes dinner, and we watch a movie. Despite the circumstances, we had a splendid night together making hilarious memories.

Friday morning:
I wake up and go shopping: 1 dress, 1 sweater, 2 pairs of underwear, and a few toiletries later and I am set to go to Paris for the weekend, return to Brussels on Monday and Tuesday and catch up with my friends in London on Wednesday to enjoy the rest of my Spring break.  

making the best of the day stranded in brussels

EDIT: Annelise would also like to update the world on her Friday as well...

"Oh, and fun fact: Today, TODAY of all possible days, today when I am feeling fresh as our yellow kitchen cloth wearing the same outfit for the third day in a row, TODAY is the day we are going to take photos of the editorial team for Internal Voices, the UN interns' magazine which is to be distributed to all UN offices world wide. Fan-freakin'tastic."

Such is life of young women, exploring the world on their own. You take the good and the bad, and make the very most of everything!

My grandchildren will love my story of being Stranded in Brussels.

Get your map out..

Isn't it funny how a good outfit changes your whole attitude?

Today I wore brown skinnies with a pleated front from Zara, a blue long-sleeve scoop neck, and a navy blue blazer with a plaid collar from Pull and Bear. I also donned a scarf that I borrowed (contemplated stealing) from my roommate's closet, so of course it is full of bright red and burnt orange hues. I feel absolutely European, better yet... Belgian, so I feel like I belong here.
I walked the streets with my head held high, refused to question which Tram or Metro I should get on and I confidently greeted people and spoke in my limited French. In essence, today was a good day in Brussels. I went to class, stopped by a corner café- paid far too much for terrible curbside cappuccino- and worked at my internship.

Then I came home and started a bit of spring cleaning of my computer files and photos.
Of course, I reminisced over about 3 years of photos and then this overwhelming feeling came over me and this thought stamped itself in big, bold, red letters across my mind:

How am I supposed to go back to my life?
Maybe it is a silly question, but no, I don't think so.
See, I never considered myself to be a "stereo-typical" American. I don't obsess over tabloids or reality TV. I keep myself relatively informed of current events. I am more mature, more introspective, more determined than your average 20 year old girl. I have high aspirations, and I have never intended to settle.

But now that I am here, now that I see this WORLD that I didn't know first-hand. How am I supposed to go back to Tennessee and do the same things I have always done, and think the way I always have?
My whole way of thinking has been completely transformed. I no longer live in the American bubble (not that the American life is a bad thing), but I have a global perspective.

How am I supposed to go home, graduate in December, and start a job in Tennessee and stop there? I have this new desire, burden even, to see the world and to make a difference.. to be bigger than myself.

I have always prided myself on being a very relational-based person. I invest in individuals, and I love making the smallest impact on the people around me. But now, I don't feel like that is good enough. I want to go to Africa and encourage young girls to love themselves, respect themselves, and protect themselves. I want to go to India, spend time with orphans, and show them just how loved and adored they are. I want to go to the Middle East and watch and participate as people recognize their ability to have a voice in their government.

I want to go.

So what's next?
I don't have answers yet, but stay tuned.. I'll keep you posted ;)