Still I rise

From Ivy League MBA. To food stamps. And back again.

Valentines Day, 2018

I am the girl of whom “things were expected”.

Full merit scholarship to an exclusive private girls school. Dux (i.e. valedictorian). Bachelor’s Cum Laude. Top of my diplomatic training class. Seconded to the security sub-committee for Nelson Mandela’s inauguration. First South African diplomat sent to Cairo to study Arabic full-time. Charge d’Affaires of the mission during the second Palestinian intifada. A Park Leadership Fellow at the Johnson Graduate School of Business at Cornell University. MBA with distinction. MMH with Honors. Wall Street. Big four consulting firm.
 
And then.
And then.
 
Six years later we were on food stamps.
 
And then again six years after that I was hired in as an “innovative change agent” to be part of building “the utility of the future”.
 
And then.
And then.
 
I am still unraveling the “and then’s”.   Still unraveling me. Still gently tugging, one by one, the strings of the spider web that are my life, and seeing what else each string moves, touches, affects. Seeing my wholeness, rather than my parts. The painful, difficult journey that is self-acceptance, self-compassion and integration.

Each day I unravel a little  more.
Each day I spin a new thread.
Of hope. Of compassion. Of love. Of belonging.
Knitting myself anew.

Each day I am down in the arena, face in the dust. Arms, legs, back, soul aching from the hurts of criticism, judgment, intimidation, power over, male dominance, female aggression.

Each day I rise as much as I can. Sometimes just my head. Sometimes just one knee. Sometimes standing strong. More and more every day, higher and higher. 

I am brave enough to rise.
And rise again.
And again.
And again.

Because that is what it means to dare to be me.
To be wholehearted.
To dare to stand tall.

​I am Sansu.
Rising. 

Still I rise