She spoke of the pressure to stand in front of the mirror and she broke. Eloquent words tripped over closing throat. She wept on the stage and then…the class held her.
The next told of her sisters anorexia and the class held her.
The next of the rape and the class held her.
Three school girls stood before their peers and the tears fell like the clouds were crying and none of us chose to lift umbrella. It was their tears and it was my own and it was the other teachers and it was half of the students. A downpour. Dancing in this kind of rain is a new experience altogether. This slow movement toward our freedom. A moment I shall not forget.
It is why I do what I do.
It is what I have given my life to.