THE VOICE OF THE WOMAN

The memories tell that when I was born, a mild rain was poured out of the sky, mixing the aromas of lime, roses, jasmine and lavender. Fragrances worthy of the day when the mother of God is born. The memories also say that I did not cry much at birth, which made the attendees at birth to think that I must have good memories of my past life and therefore I do not cry when I came here this time. You were already born and you expected me somewhere ahead in the time where we were going to meet.

I was born in the body of a woman, and many commented that this is a bad luck. Bad luck, which meant I would not have the saying about many things in many places in the human world. You would have decided everything for me. Everybody found that my little woman’s body, was fascinating in its innocence, and that was something that everybody would repeat through all my life. I was supposed to be charming and innocent. Otherwise, you had prepared your punishments for me. I could not become your heiress. My female body was not worthy enough to inherit your wealth. I usually inherit your poverty, and then someone buys me for very little money.

No one asked me whether I agree with this injustice.

I grew up. I was learning to speak, but nobody listened to me. Everybody was saying how charming I was. Everyone wanted to touch my hair, my face. My body did not belong to me. I could not do what I wanted with it. I could not offer it to the man I loved because you had your plans for me and my body.

And you exchanged my young body for money to men that I did not love. But that did not matter to you.

You did not know that I was born to be God's mother.

I did not have a voice in the society I was supposed to live in. For you, I was just a pretty object, subject of temptation that you could buy. And you sold my body to strange men, old men. They promised to be good with me if I was obedient and did not cause them problems.

 

They did not know that I was born to be God's mother.

  You love the comfort of home. And you prefer to stay at home where I can make you company. You want me to be your companion, which no one else can see. And I'm not present outside of your home. I'm not in the pictures. I'm not in the buildings. And just some curves on the houses are reminiscent of your love for me.

But you are still small, too small and unsure of yourself to let me out and even triumph with my body and spirit. You're afraid that if you let me out, you'll lose me because you will not be enough for me anymore. Because I will see that you are small. Very small to give me freedom. And I stand, locked in a cage, and wait patiently for your growing up. But you love more yourself to let me be free. And I'm in the role of a wife, whose body keeps temptation and sin only for you.

You did not know that I was born to be God's mother.

I am inside the churches and on the walls as the Mother of God. Only in this role it is allowed for me to show out. You have big demands for me. You see in me the divine. You want me to be godly and chaste. You allow me the role of mother because it is safe for you and for your happiness. You do not want me to be a woman. As a mother I must be perfect. I must be worthy to bear the Son of God. No more and no less than that. You would not have accepted an ordinary woman to be the mother of your children. That is why I dedicate my life to prove myself to you. The birth of the Son of God, our son, it is the proof to you that I am worth something that I am worth to show myself out. Because the birth of our son makes me forever nailed to you. My role as a mother takes away the temptation of my body. Forever. This saves me from the sin.

You did not know that if I had Him, I did not need you. Because through him is my second birth. My spiritual birth and strength come through Him.

 But you had prepared for our son the crucifixion. And our Son has accepted his fate; he has accepted his cross, to which you have pinned him. To make me to obey to you again. To erase my personality. To make me suffer. To destroy my soul. You took my son. You took my strength. But you did not take away my voice. And instead of me disappearing with my Son and drowning myself in tears and sorrow, I grew stronger, angrier and more independent.

An anger that stifled my tears and made me remember myself and who I was. An anger that destroyed stereotypes and age-old concepts. An anger that took me to the barricades on the streets to demolish and ruin old structures in which there was no room for me. This anger made my love gentler, more passionate, stronger, fairer, more merciful, freer.

I am all suffering. I am all crying. I am a voice that awakens up. A voice that changes. I am the Mother of God.

I am the voice of the woman.

(Elena S. Lyubenova)