Today’s show was different. It was less of a conversation and more of a look into one woman’s life.
We stand on the backs of the generations of women who came before us, and lately I’ve been thinking about my grandmothers…about the opportunities I have in my life that they weren’t even allowed to dream about. My grandma on my mom’s side left the family farm at twelve years old to go work at the hospital in Springfield, MO so she could send money home to her family. Imagine that. Being twelve years old and moving to a new city to work in order to send money home to your family. The grit and fortitude it must have taken for her to do that boggles my mind.
Both of my grandmothers have incredible stories, as so many of our elders do. But my Grandma Gillespie, my dad’s mom, has been on my mind because lately I’ve felt echoes of her extraordinary rage calling out to me. See, her anger was the type of rage that could burn holes through time. Even though she’s been dead for many years, and I hardly spent any time with her as a kid, occasionally her anger washes over me, usually just for a moment, but it stops me dead in my tracks, and I’m forced to reckon with her rage from beyond the veil. I am compelled to wonder why she was so angry. Her anger was more than a feeling. It was an electromagnetic pulse that could knock the wind out of you. It was and still is that powerful.
- We owe it to our foremothers to follow our dreams.
- We owe it to the world to share our gifts right now.
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