The Acorn Underfoot: Super Tuesday

Yesterday was pretty amazing. . .

First, I got up early and headed to Kroger to purchase a small veggie tray and some honey buns (I realize now what an odd pairing this is). Then I met up with one of my classmates (K) from my Feminist Theory course. Together we drove to a local women's shelter/family violence prevention center to participate in a small service-project we put together for our Women's Studies class.

Although we were both very excited (because we would be conducting a creative exploration session, which included writing, creating art, listening/reading poetry) neither of us was very nervous. I told K that I was afraid we wouldn't be able to do the project after all, thinking we were both intuitively suspecting an unexpected cancellation (I've learned things can fall through last minute with non-profits). When we found the center I finally felt a wave of nervousness because there were gates and a call box for us to "state our names and reason for visiting." Inside the gates, we found a parking spot and walked to the visitors' entrance. Inside, it resembled a dentist's office: chairs and small end tables with magazines and plastic toys and games for children. We were met with yet another call button, and a friendly-looking woman emerged from behind the window.

She led us to the small room where we would do our activities with the women. It was perhaps the first time either of us had really thought the women would already be there; they weren't in the room, but they were waking up in the rooms around us, rooms where they were staying temporarily.

We spread out the art supplies (crayons, markers, glitter pens, drawing paper) and small notebooks and pens, putting the snacks on a side table. In a few minutes the first young woman (appeared to be in her early 20s) entered the room wearing lounge pants, a sweatshirt, and carrying her purse. Her eyes lit up when she saw the supplies on the table. She asked if we were going to be doing art; K and I shared a smile and told her we were indeed going to be doing some art - we were hoping to have a great time with them! She seemed excited and told us most of the visitors just sat and talked to them and they answered questions and such. We told her we hoped to have some fun with them today, and that K and I would both be participating in all the activities too, drawing and writing along with them.

More women entered the room and we introduced ourselves to one another (most of the women appeared to be in their 20s and 30s, one woman was pregnant, and we later learned that all of them had children - they lovingly shared photos of their children with us!). In all we had six women in our little class, a perfectly intimate gathering.

We started by tossing a ball of yarn around and sharing our names and our favorite things to do. In the end, we each held a piece of the yarn, connected by the web it made around the table. Then, K led us in a creative visualization, taking us through "the house of our senses," traveling through the rooms of sight, smell, taste, touch, and smell.

Next, I read a poem called "The Invitation" aloud and then we passed it around so the women could choose a stanza that spoke to them. They spent the next half hour creating a piece of art from the poem, using the words or images that spoke to them. What was so neat about this activity was that one of the workers at the center said they could have a smoke/bathroom break and only one woman got up to use the restroom. They said they'd rather stay there coloring and drawing!

After the break, we all wrote a letter about a day five years into the future, addressing it to either (1) our future selves or (2) someone else who would be proud of our accomplishments We wrote about our ideal day, what we would be doing, who we would be with, why it would be "ideal," and what we would have to overcome to be there. The women really seemed to enjoy this activity and a couple shared their writing with us. They all said they would like to continue writing because they thought it was comforting and made them feel hopeful. They each left with their notebooks and some art supplies.

After the session was over, K and I stuck around talking to some of the women; one woman let me hold her baby! They said we should come back and visit them, and I know we're both interested in returning sometime soon, even if just to visit. This experience was so unbelievable to me, and I can't believe how at ease I felt there. Normally I think I would have felt anxious or nervous, but I felt so comfortable spending time with the women there.

When K and I returned to the car, we tried to process the experience together, considering how we felt and how it affected us. We both had other things to go to that day so we were forced to move on quickly, but that experience will stay with me forever. I hope we can go back again sometime soon!

Less than two hours after our session was over I had my creative nonfiction class to attend at school. It wasn't an ordinary class, however - Joyce Dyer, a writer who resides in Akron, OH was visiting our class. We read some of her stories for homework so I was excited to hear her talk to us about the reflective voice. What I didn't know was that she identifies as an Appalachian because her parents moved to northern Appalachia when she was little and she grew up in a mining family. When I got to class, one of my classmates handed me a book called, Bloodroot: Reflections on Place By Appalachian Women Writers, edited by Joyce Dyer. I was so excited!! My professor had gotten it for me!

I sat and listened with the rest of the class as Dyer talked to us about reflective voice, showing us examples from other CNF writers, anxiously anticipating when I could go up and talk to her after class. When class was over, I walked up to the front and told her I enjoyed her talk and that I was wondering if she could sign my book. My classmate and professor had already told her about me (!) and so she asked me questions about what part of Appalachia I was from (pronouncing the same way we do in southern Appalachia) and signing my book. She also told me about an Appalachian Writers Workshop in Kentucky. If I had thought of it and known ahead of time I would've mentioned that I've studied with Rita Quillen, an Appalachian poet included in Bloodroot. We said our goodbyes and I carried my signed book, admiring it in the hall.

I knew when I woke up Tuesday that my planner was packed full of stuff to do. But I didn't know what a great day it would be. Enough of that. . . here are some pictures!