Four years, 180 posts later. (SITE CHANGE!!!!!!)

Four years ago today, I began this blog.
I didn't know what to expect from this.
I didn't think I would still be posting years later.
When I started this blog, I had not discovered my love for writing.
I was taking a writing class at the time and thought I would start this for fun.
I thought I could inspire people with my writing.
I could not predict the future.
Though, when I found my passion for writing,
I already had a place I could post on.
Next month will mark three years since I've been posting here every week.
And because blogging has allowed me to share my writing with people,
I've decided to make a change....

I HAVE A WEBSITE!!!! 

https://www.kellyseverseike.com/

From now on, I will be posting weekly from there. 
This blog will remain how it's always been.

Thank you to everyone who has followed my writing over the last four years.
New post on Monday on my new website.
See you over there.
This is only the beginning.

Much love,
Kelly

Self Love

There are parts of ourselves we push 
to the side and pretend they don't exist. 
But they do. They won't disappear because 
you refuse to acknowledge them and mentally 
put them in the trash. You can't get rid 
of it, you can't empty the trash. Over time, 
you begin to shed the ideas you had for 
yourself in order to go through the trash 
and open up the crinkled pieces of paper you 
threw away years ago. It's a process, 
uncovering the parts of yourself you've 
ignored your whole life takes time to 
understand and work through. Thoughts will 
change and that's okay. Taking out the pieces of paper, 
laying them on the ground, and realizing what 
they say is hard to work through. 
You'll cry, you'll laugh, you'll begin 
to see yourself for you and not who 
society deemed you to be. You can't be 
someone you're not forever. Shedding the 
expectations of others to embrace your true 
self is one of the most liberating 
things you can do for yourself.

#KeepFamiliesTogether

"Hey America, Keep Families Together!"
Signs a group of people was holding over a bridge on the highway while waving an American flag.


Right now, we have a crisis 
in this country. Families are 
arriving in at the border 
are being held like criminals. 
Children are being ripped away 
from their parents are being put 
into foster homes like stray dogs.

No one is keeping track 
of where these kids are put 
around the country. There are 
no receipts or paperwork to 
inform parents where their children 
went when arriving in the country 
expecting better than the home they left.

These children cry at night, staring up 
at ceilings they do not know, tears 
streaming down their tired cheeks like 
rain, yearning for their families they're 
unsure they will ever see again.

Sunday Rain

The last Sunday of spring brought a downpour of rain.
I looked outside to see the earth flooded with water
so suddenly. It came down like cats and dogs. Even
when it was over, everything stayed wet for a few
more hours. Hints of summer rain, inklings of what's
to come in the forthcoming afternoons these next few
months. Every gray cloud must be taken into question.

The earth is green in preparation for summer. The
transition happened when everyone was distracted by
life's little interactions that no one remembers. But
now there's social media to display all the blooming 
flowers to people who don't care to see a variety of
plant colors. Though, people like as they scroll through
their feed of news and puppies and terrible things.

The rain helps bring the earth back to life. The 
vibrancy of bright colors with yellow, green, and pink
captures the eye's curiosity. The red on a flower and the red
on a berry is illuminating from afar that up closer I 
question if I'm really seeing. Sundays are for reflecting 
and reorganizing for the week to come. Yesterday was parting
ways with a beautiful season as we enter into the hot one.

Lost in My Thoughts

The days where I'm lost in my own thoughts, 
time seems to speed up. This has been happening
for years, where I'm creating stories in my head
that I forget what I'm supposed to be doing. You
would think as a writer, I would try to write them
down. But some stories weren't meant to have words,
they were meant to stay in my head to entertain me
while waiting for more interesting stories to come
around. They're filler stories that are more fun to
imagine than to actually figure out. They may be
based on an already existing story or be completely
made up. I have many of them swirling around at one
time and I'm capable of jumping back and forth to
add to what I have come up with. With these stories,
I don't try to crack the code. I only play around
with different combinations, knowing I'll never
figure them out. Which is good because I'm free
to imagine these stories without the pressure
of writing them down.

The Jumping Off Point

It's the jumping off point
that's always the scariest.
You don't know what will come
from taking a chance. You don't
know that waking up in a new place
within a new time zone and strangers
all around will cause you to do. Will
you adjust? Meet new people? Write that
story you've always wanted to  write? Find a
harder mountain to climb?
The
possibilities
seem
endless.

Parades and Fireworks: Memories of Passed Grandparents

It's difficult to remember my grandmother, my father's mother, whose laugh and humor dubbed her the name funny grandma. I was ten when she died, too young to truly comprehend the meaning of death. She had short blonde hair and a radiant smile that would light up an entire room. Her daughter, my aunt, looks exactly like her. The only thing I inherited from her, looks-wise, is her petiteness. I'm the smallest one in my immediate family full of giants, or at least to me they are. A variety of home movies triggers memories I do not hold clearly. My memories are like broken pieces of film I can only see snippets of. I have stronger, more vivid memories of my grandfather, my mother's father. He died when I was twelve. And while I don't recall having a better understanding of death within the two years, I remember feeling more of an emotional weight with his passing, probably because I was older. I still get emotional when I hear James Taylor's "How Sweet It Is" because it's my grandma and grandpa's song and it played at his funeral. I also think of him when I watch "The Price is Right", which he watched almost every day at ten in the morning. My grandpa served in the Navy for a bit after he and my grandmother got married. Certain smells and sounds will send me back to moments with the ones that I love who are no longer here. Fireworks remind me of nights in Iowa, sitting next to my grandma on a blanket, covering my ears from the loud sounds. American flags take me back to a parade down the driveway of my grandparent's house in Maine, my grandpa leading the way waving an American flag with my sister conducting the whole thing, screaming at the top of her lungs. I remember them fondly and hold them close to my heart. Thinking of them today as the seasons change once again.

Aging: Overcoming Childhood Fears

As children, we all have fears  those overwhelming fears that 
consume us whenever we're forced to face them.
Some kids hate the dark, while others hate large bodies.
I hated the dentist, absolutely loathed it.
But I had a good reason to despise the dentist.
At age twelve, I had three wrong teeth pulled.
Not one, not two, but three.
I'll save you the long story by saying
the horrible experience scarred my view of the dentist.
I've had to get a lot of dental work over
the years due to what happened.
I had braces twice, first for three years, 
second for four and a half years.
I have four implants and one bridge.
I also had a jaw surgery seven years ago this month.
I know my mouth forwards and backward.
I know how to articulate my needs and concerns
to the people working on my teeth.
It's both a blessing and a curse to know
my teeth as well as I do.
During all of this time, I never quite
got comfortable with people working on my teeth.
There were many tears along the way.
My horrible experience left me with a fear
that haunted me with each dental procedure.
When getting my implants and bridge put in, they gave me
Valium and put me to sleep every step of the way.
I developed anxiety as a teenager and was anxious
for many years, not just at the dentist.
But the dentist always made me shaky, 
no matter how calm the Valium made me feel.
As an adult, I'm not as anxious as I once was.
I have a good relationship with my dentist,
he makes me laugh and understands my concerns.
Today, I had to get a filling done.
I don't like getting numb because when I had my three
wrong teeth removed, they numbed the right places.
The last time I had to get a filling, 
I got emotional over having my teeth numb
and cried during the whole thing.
This time I was determined to have it be different.
And it was different.
My dentist assured me that this would be easy,
and so I stated I didn't want to be numb.
He said okay and I didn't need it after all.
Walking out after the simple procedure,
I was reminded that I can go to the dentist without crying.
I can overcome my childhood fear, for the most part,
and leave the ghost in the past.

Out with the New, in with the Old.

There's something comforting about nostalgia.  It's like a fuzzy blanket on a cold night in March. Embracing what you're already comfortable with is easier, and sometimes more enjoyable, than expanding your views and trying something new. There's been a pattern these past couple of years with reboots. Bringing back stories from the 80s and 90s have become very common. From Boy Meets World and Full House to the X-Files and Heathers, people seem to be yearning for stories they watched as a kid.

As comforting as it is to watch television shows I grew up with make a comeback, I can't help but wonder what that says about us as a society. What about television comebacks makes the child in people come alive? Is it the feeling that nothing has changed in the twenty-plus years since the show has been off the air? Or that we can return to a simpler time before our society began to fell apart with the introduction of social media and our current political climate?

I'm not going to deny, I love watching the shows I watched as a kid now and see how the characters changed since we parted ways years ago. It's like seeing an old friend you thought you would never see again. Though, I also want to meet new characters and see a different universe than the one I'm very familiar with. I want to see new stories with new dynamics that are pushing the limits of what the audience is used to. I'd wanted to see shows about people who stutter or a story about young people asking difficult questions about what they want out of life and defining the odds. I'm conflicted between embracing new stories and cuddling up to the ones I already love. 

Like My Father

I feel like my father, 
for I can only hear out of one ear.

He's deaf in his left ear,
while my right is currently clogged.

A virus found me,
a present for finishing the semester.

It's an odd sensation,
to only listen out of one ear.

As though half of the sound is cut off,
like a traffic detour to the same destination.

You get the message,
but it all gets directed to the good ear.

While the bad ear gets nothing,
or muffled, distorted sounds at best.

I'm lucky,
for my congestion will eventually clear.

All the ear wax will drain on it's own,
and I will be able to hear as I've always been able to.

I can only imagine what it's like,
to only be able to hear half of everything around you.

Have You Heard?

There is good to gain the day

Walk Whitman was correct

We must find good each day

Life is beautiful

But you see

Negativity blinds our perspective to breathe

Breathe the good air poisoned by man

We must appreciate today

There is good to be gained each day

What I say this day is correct

I Feel Pretty: A Hair Journey

I got a haircut over the weekend, something I've been wanting to do for quite some time. It's pretty short, the shortest I can remember having it since I was a little girl.

Last fall, I lost a significant amount of hair due to seborrheic dermatitis (and possibly Hashimoto's, which I was diagnosed with earlier this year). I had thick white build up all over my scalp. It got so bad, I could feel it on my head when I would raise my eyebrows. Over time, I became impatient that the treatment for my seborrheic dermatitis wasn't working fast enough and extremely annoyed with being able to feel what's on my scalp without touching it with my hand. So I did what any fed up person would do: I picked off the build up. And with the shedding of the white annoyance, my hair followed along.

You see, the thickness was so thick that it covered the follicles of my hair. The first time I noticed I bald spot on my head, I instantly became self-conscious. I asked my cousin if she could see anything. Even though she said no, I could feel a bare place without hair on my head and I felt embarrassed. I knew the damage had been done.

A few weeks later, after my birthday, I began the process of continued picking for about a month. Picking to get the white stuff off. Picking to be set free of this disgusting feeling. Picking to release myself from my own personal hell. I wasn't thinking about the future in those moments, I was only thinking about how to make this thing go away as soon as soon as possible.

But then the future came and I had major bald patches all over my scalp. It was so bad that I couldn't wear my hair in a ponytail or tucked behind my ears without my bare head being exposed to everyone to see. Though no one pointed it out, I could see it and that's all I cared about. I obsessed over it. One problem solved, another uncovered.

I was very hesitant to cut my hair. I had spent the entirety of last year obsessing over growing it out. I wanted long hair, as long as I could get it. I was determined to have it because I thought long hair was beautiful and I wanted to have that kind of beauty. Though, as the year went along and summer faded into fall, my long hair became thinner. I was in denial about how bad it was getting. My hair was coming out in strands that looked like extensions. I was in denial of my hair reality because I wasn't ready to let go of the dream of having long hair. I would tell people I would cut my hair when it got to a certain length. Just a little bit longer, I'd say to myself.

I cut my hair before I could get to my dream length. I cut my hair in December, the end of a stressful year for many reasons. I cut my hair because I was tired of lying to myself. I cut my hair because I could no longer look in the mirror and deny that my long hair was so thin, it no longer looked like mine. My dream came crashing down and I was left with long spaghetti strands as hair.

Yesterday, I watched a conversation between Oprah and Amy Schumer. Amy Schumer is promoting a movie called "I Feel Pretty". While talking to Oprah, Amy made a comment that inspired me to want to write this long post. "What if I just loved myself today, right now, how I am? I don't want to be striving for this other version." Letting go of society's conditions of how women are supposed to look is difficult. From a young age, we are taught the standard of beauty women are supposed to follow. Shave all of your hair, wear high heels, make sure nothing is out of place. Lose weight, starve yourself, get a tan. In order to be seen pretty by people, specifically men, we are given a list of boxes we must check in order to achieve the goal: finding a man to spend the rest of our lives with and have children. It's not until I became an adult that I realized the list has no room for mistakes. The list is unrealistic. The list doesn't allow for room to love yourself the way you are.

With Amy's words still in my head, I went to go look at myself in the mirror. I shed the dream of wanting long hair by admiring my short hair. For the first time in a while, I looked in the mirror and felt confident in who I am. I like how my hair looks now. I'm no longer striving for another version of me. I see myself and love myself for who I am. I think I look beautiful. I have the confidence to write that I walked away from the mirror feeling as though I am the best version of me now. Because I am. 

Admiring The Season

I stop to take photographs of flowers blooming. 
The boy I watch states that he hates spring
because I take too many photos. I laugh at his statement. 
He's too young to truly comprehend the beauty
of a blooming flower. How a new season
brings new details and sights that should
be appreciated. Most of us spend the majority
of our days caught up in our heads, thinking about
the next task to check off for the day. We walk by flowers
blooming as though it happens all the time,
as though they will always be there. They will not.
They will wilt, die, and fall from their stems.
Then they will grow, bloom, and burst with
color the next season. I try to take time to stop
and take a photograph because it's important to smell
the flowers and acknowledge the transitioning seasons.
I hope the boy I watch will one day grow up to 
take time out of his day to admire
the earth and the beautiful flowers.

Overload

It's impossible to keep up with today's media.
Whether the news is true or fake, there's an overload
of information being dealt out faster than anyone can comprehend.
In today's society, facts are less important than they were in the past.
I can't understand why facts are now seen as suggestions
to believe instead of being taken as what they are: the truth.

March for Our Lives

People take to the streets.

Young people who have been failed 
by the generations in power.

Older people who are fed up with the people in

office who care more about themselves

then the people in the country, the ones 
who they're are supposed to be thinking about.

Children had to grow up too soon because

an act of violence shattered their innocence.

They've been forced to take action to try

to stop these situations that have become all

too common in America.

Lawmakers fear that if they speak up to change

the gun laws, they will lose their jobs.

How ironic,
thinking about themselves have made 
their fears come true.

Playing it safe in politics has led them
to the place they tried to avoid like the plague. 

There's a new generation who will be

voting for the first time this November.

They're angry for being abandoned by those 
who are supposed to be working for them.

A generation who aren't willing to

put up with bs.

They have learned the tragedies
of life too soon.

They have to practice shooting drills 
and  be aware of the fears of what
going to school and learning could be.

They can't fully focus on what is 
being taught because of events such

as these are too common and nothing 
is being done to prevent them.

So it keeps on happening.

As people take to the streets across 
the country and around the globe,

there is hope that change can happen.

Students can learn without fear.

Lawmakers will hear the outcries,

chants, and messages

from volumes of people 
and put in place laws to make these

tragic situations less likely to occur

in the future.

And if they don't, 
then the people marching

and many more will

vote them out this November. 

Window

The snow that fell the night before,

is half melted when I look out the window.

Everything is either dead or hibernating.

A colorless earth is only pretty for so long.

Flower buds on the trees about to bloom.

The grass is coming back to life.

Welcoming the green to bring

colors into life, everything is right.

The tree out the window is orange.

Magic floats through the air,

as the earth becomes so colorful,

before saying goodnight.

The heat is overwhelmingly hot.

Stepping out feels like stepping

into a hot kitchen or inside a stove.

Patience is slim as the number rises.

Suddenly, I was in France.

I walk through doors,
away from my stressed sister and her friend,
and I find myself on a beach in southern France.

I don't know how I made it here,
the shifting of time and space in a dream, perhaps.

This isn't real,
though I feel the hot summer sun beaming
down on my skin as I gaze around at those in front of me.

People speaking in languages I don't understand,
laughing and gossiping with drinks in their hands.

I go to speak to a nice looking couple,
but they turn away as soon as I say hello,
waving their hands as if I should already know.

Know what? I don't know.

An Answer to a Question Never Asked

Meaning is a flower 

bathing in sunlight. 

Colors exploding from

the summer heat, 

popping bright to

whoever walks by. 

Meaning is madness 

no one can control. 

No one understands 

chaos besides the fact 

that it's something 

you cannot grasp, 

it flings away from 

your hand at every 

chance. Meaning is a 

baby's first cry and a 

body's last breath.

The soul's departure 

to whatever's next. 

Meaning is a sunrise 

and sunset. The universe 

attempting art with 

each passing day. 

Meaning is beauty

that doesn't have 

to be explained. 

It moves from up 

to down below. 

Meaning is what only 

exists in thought. 

Dreams hold meaning

we will never know. 

Meaning is living a life 

you'd wish to tell. 

Meaning is a story 

already told.

Breaking the Cycle

i. when you hear the same questions being asked.

you wonder how many times
the same event has to happen
under different circumstances
in order to find real answers.

ii. when you hear the same answers being used.

you become tired of listening 

to the same conversations

and nothing being done to

change the recycled patterns.

iii. when you hear new voices standing up.

you have hope that the
next generation will
have the answers we
cannot think of ourselves.

Level Three

I get up after receiving a phone call I was anticipating. I wasn't expecting to hear what I was told. I felt as though I was in a dream. I knew something was coming but I wasn't prepared for it.  I was emotional but I thought I had shed all of my tears.

Walking across the hallway, I thought about defining moments. Moments that shift or change the protagonist's direction. How cinematic these moments appear in movies. How layers are added in stories. How the music in the background will forever be connected to those moments. I can't remember what I was listening to on my headphones as I walked on the checkered floor, down the stairs, and out the side door. 

We all have pivotal moments that shape our lives in different ways. Whether happy or sad, tragic or silent, these moments wake us up to either who we are or those around us. How we can remember random details that we'd normally forget. The temperature outside, the time of day, who was present, what was happening externally and internally. We can think back to these moments and almost relive them. 

As I open the door to climb up to the third level of the parking structure, the emotions come crashing into me and tears fall out of my eyes like rain. I push forward, up the stairs, wanting to be in the safety of my car. Though I could only push so far. I stopped on the second flight of stairs because my body was incapable of moving with so much intense emotion flowing through me. I inhale and exhale. I tell myself it's okay, something I didn't know would be true. When I finally make it up to my car, my cheeks are red and my eyes are blurred. I wipe the tears away. I turn on my car and continue my day.

This moment has stayed with me for a number of reasons. It's difficult to not feel in control of your own body. It's difficult to have a ton of information thrown at you and be expected to swallow it like a spoon full of sugar. We all process these moments differently. I burst into tears from experiencing too many intense emotions at once. Many people interpret tears as sadness. Though I wouldn't say I was sad. I was overwhelmed about being forced to turn in a direction I wasn't prepared for.

Since then, I have processed what I was told. Actually, I'm still processing this and what it means for my life going forward. I expect I'll be processing things for at least the next couple of months. I am okay and I know I will continue to be okay knowing what I know now. I am thankful and grateful for finding out the way I did. It's another box of things I did not choose but have no choice but to accept. 

No one tells you life is going to be easy. We all have different journeys and perspectives from the experiences we endure that we did not choose. Though it's how we choose to process those unexpected changes and move forward that defines our outlooks on life.

43.1632° N, 70.6188° W

I'm walking barefoot down a long stretch of beach.

It's summer, two days after the longest day of the year.

The cold I have has taken away my voice. It hurts to speak. 

I'm wearing a black and white striped dress. 

I bought it at Old Navy the week before. 

It's comfortable and flowy, it blows in the wind as I walk. 

My dark navy Keds sneakers and phone in one hand, 

Venti Green Tea Latte from Starbucks in the other. 

Headphones in my ears blast the same song on repeat.

Seagulls fly around me and land on the sand reflecting the sky. 

The air is filled with the smell of seaweed.

I let go of the stress that consumed me.

Relieved from weight of not knowing.

Free to breathe without hesistating.

I sip my drink and hum the melody, too sick to sing.

Process - Up & Down

Last week, I felt many emotions.

Betrayal of my own body -
how could you possibly do
this without consulting me?

Scared of what this means -
diving into another unknown
without seeing where the bottom goes.

Anger at this list -
another thing to add to
things I cannot control.

Fear of what's next -
blindly stepping into yet
another arena with no warning


Many tears have been shed,
much more will come soon.
Emotions are how I process.

I'm not sad for myself,
no, "oh god, not again!"
no asking, "why me?"

I don't ask myself
answerless questions
as I mentally prepare

to check another box
of things I did not choose
but have no choice

but to accept.

White Roses in Black

"Rejoice! Our times are intolerable.

Take courage, for the worst is a

harbinger of the best. Only dire

circumstance can precipitate the

overflow of oppressors. The old &

corrupt must be laid to waste

before the just can triumph.

Contradiction will be heightened.

The reckoning will be hastened by

the staging of the seed disturbances.

The apocalypse will blossom."

Jenny Holzer





Last night on the Grammys' red carpet, musicians wore white roses in honor of the Time's Up movement. Similar to everyone wearing black to the Golden Globes, the white roses represented solidarity amongst everyone that attended the event. Instead of dawning a white rose to the award show, Lorde chose to have a Jenny Holzer handwritten poem sown onto the back of her gorgeous red dress. This poem is not only beautiful but extremely relevant and speaks volumes as to where we are today as a society. 

Lorde was the only female artist nominated for album of the year. Her album Melodrama has been critically acclaimed and adored by many. I've written many times about how much I love it as well. Not only did Lorde not win her category but many viewers of the three and a half hour telecast noticed how there was only one woman who took the stage to accept a major award. #GrammysSoMale became a hashtag on Twitter, reflecting the lack of female representation in the night's winners.

When asked by Variety why there were significantly more male musicians and artists being given awards during the telecast, Recording Academy president Neil Portnow had this to say:

"It has to begin with… women who have the creativity in their hearts and souls, who want to be musicians, who want to be engineers, producers, and want to be part of the industry on the executive level… [They need] to step up because I think they would be welcome."


This is an interesting answer given how some of the most memorable performances of the night were by female musicians. Lady Gaga, Rihanna with DJ Khaled, Miley Cyrus with Elton John, Cardi B with Bruno Mars, and the most powerful performance of the whole show, Kesha (with an equally powerful introduction by Janelle Monáe), showed a range of talented women in the music industry. All of these women, along with Lorde, Andra Day Lana Del Rey, Sza, Beyoncé, who were all in attendance, as well as all of the other female artists who are climbing the charts, continue to prove that women are capable of creating music that people are will listen to and love. 

In that same article, Variety also quoted Grammys Producer Ken Ehrlich saying, "Hopefully we'll see Taylor Swift next year," when asked whether or not Swift's appearance at the award show would have made a difference. Grammys producers shouldn't have to rely on Taylor Swift to represent females in the music industry, when in fact she only represents a small portion of the talented female performers and songwriters.  

Jenny Holzer's poem was written in the late seventies, early eighties. Her powerful language strikes a chord of what needs to take place in order for change to occur. We are living in a time that is filled with reckoning as we begin to recognize our past mistakes and move forward in hopes of equality. Women raising their voices and speaking their truths is a part of the movement we're seeing across the nation and around the globe. These are the seeds of disturbances that will make way for an apocalypse that will blossom a brighter reality for future generations.


    

Simple

It's not simple if you overcomplicate

what you're trying to figure out.

It's a natural thing humans do.

I've been told you do less

overthinking the older you get.

I hope that's true.

Change With the Waves

I love how the waves ripple the sand as it gets pulled back to sea.
The way my toes feel on the grooves of the tiny shelves formed
from the flow that always comes and goes. When the tide is low,
walking on the tiny grooves, adding my footprint in the sand,
feels like heaven to my feet. I love summer, not the heat. The
tiny moments that stay in the time capsule of memories like
old stills on film. How they are replayed in my mind like
a dream sequence of random images, a montage of a story
that feels almost unreal. I look out my window to see snow
floating down from a gray winter sky. The new year brings
new resolutions. The tides of society are changing the patterns
in people's minds. What we think, how we think, how we
act and feel about certain things. Time's up on silence.
The voices speaking up are loud and abundant, creating
conversations and bringing awareness to the innocent
and ignorant. The shadows are moving away like how
waves ripple the sand as it gets pulled back to sea.

#TimesUp

Wearing black is not all we will be doing. We will be doing away with the old spoken codes in favor of communicating boldly and directly: What we are wearing is not a statement of fashion. It is a statement of action. It is a direct message of resistance. Black because we are powerful when we stand together with all women across industry lines. Black because we’re starting over, resetting the standard. Black because we’re done being silenced and we’re done with the silencers. Tonight is not a mourning. Tonight is an awakening.

-Amber Tamblyn

Last night on the Golden Globes red carpet, many of the stars wore black in honor of a new movement called #TimesUp, stemmed from the #MeToo movement. #TimesUp, which launched on January 1st, 2018, is an organization calling out sexual harassment, assault, and inequality in the workplace. The organizers, who are women in the entertainment industry as well as activists, have set up a legal defense fund to help women and men across all industries get the help and support they need in combating inappropriate behavior and seeking justice. As of the time this post is published, the fund has raised over $16 million. While much of Hollywood was celebrating the best of film and television last night, they are also making a stance and creating change in their industry which has been rocked by many scandals these last few months. No longer are these women being silenced by powerful men and threats of legal action if they spoke of what had happened to them. Their voices are being heard, supported, and believed. Time's up.

As I was watching the stars walk down the red carpet, some alongside leading activists involved in both the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, I couldn't help but think about how incredible it is to see so many actors use their platform to call out issues that have been going on for far too long in industries all around the globe. What a time to be alive, I kept on thinking to myself. This is more than just Hollywood but these people realize the influence they have on society and are speaking up in hopes that the women and men who have stories and don't feel as though their voice would be heard will feel less afraid to speak up. By acknowledging what has been happening in their industry, these actors and activists are having a significant impact our culture. Time's up.

Throughout the three hour event, I watched and thought about the stories we tell ourselves and the stories we're told. The Golden Globes are meant to celebrate the art of storytelling and the people who are apart of bringing so many brilliant stories to life. In many of the acceptance speeches, the mention of women's stories being in increment part of the storytelling process was repeatedly brought up. Hollywood is still very much a male-dominated industry where only a small percentage of women actually get to tell the stories they create. There's still a long way to go. However, with the success of films such as Wonder Woman and Lady Bird (both directed by women) and television shows like The Handmaid's Tale and Big Little Lies (both adaptations of books written by women), stories about complex and multilayered women and the relationships they have with each other and themselves are being seen and well received by audiences and critics. How we want to be seen by others vs who we actually are. How to find strength when living in a society where you have no control. Understanding the powers you have and learning how to use them to help others. Knowing you want to go somewhere without having the destination in mind. The four stories I mentioned grapple with these questions. The women in these stories may reflect versions of ourselves or women that we have in our lives. The stories we tell ourselves and the stories we're told have a tremendous impact on how we view ourselves and everything around us. Time's up.

     

There are moments throughout history that shift the current culture of the time. #MeToo and #TimesUp are changing the way we discuss and treat sexual harassment and assault in our society. Men in powerful positions are being held accountable and given consequences for their inexcusable actions. Women are standing up against inequality in the workplace. With the help of social media, people are being heard and change is being made. We're progressing in hopes for a better tomorrow. Last night, Oprah Winfrey received the Cecil B. de Mille Award and gave an intelligent and moving speech. Her words gave me hope and made me tear up. Her speech cemented this shift in our current culture and the ways we're learning to do better than the generations before us. I hope mothers will show to their daughters Oprah's speech and talk about what is happening in our society. I hope they will discuss the significance of why so many celebrities wore black on the red carpet and how important it is to speak up regardless of what anyone tells you. Because time is up.

"So I want all the girls watching here, now, to know that a new day is on the horizon! And when that new day finally dawns, it will be because of a lot of magnificent women, many of whom are right here in this room tonight, and some pretty phenomenal men, fighting hard to make sure that they become the leaders who take us to the time when nobody ever has to say "Me too" again."

-Oprah Winfrey

Learn more about the Time's Up movement and their Legal Defense Fund.