I watched Maid yesterday. It was about a young, southern woman who, after continuous emotional abuse by her boyfriend, finally has the courage to leave and take on a year’s worth of a struggle to find independence for herself and her daughter. I saw her as a common representation of many young girls today, chronically taking care of others, putting herself last and doing what others told her to do. She would dream of more, wanting to go to college to study writing, wanting to have her own place so Maddy, her daughter, could have a stable and safe home. She didn’t want fame. She didn’t want riches. She didn’t want stuff. She just wanted to not have $0 in her back account. She wanted a family who supported her, knew her worth, a mom who wasn’t reckless and a dad who would apologize. But no one ever offered her more. When no one ever offers you anything, you don’t think you have the right to ask for anything else.
But when the glass shattered over her head that one night, she realized that she didn’t just want more. She had the right for more.
It was extremely hard for her to ask for help at first. But, to her surprise, people did help. There were good people out there, she discovered. There were little angels hidden in this world. However, whenever the world gave her a dime, a beautiful, shiny, precious dime, it would demand a quarter back. She would find a place to live, then get kicked out because her boyfriend broke in during the middle of the night. She would apply for financial aid, then her mom would forget to fill out the paperwork. Life kept pulling the rug out from underneath her over and over again. After gaining just a few steps ahead, her past, the life she was born into, would snatch her backwards once again. But despite all of that happening, you could tell that she had finally figured out that she wasn’t the problem anymore.
It was like she was a flower whose neighbors kept sucking all the nutrients and water from underneathing her, crowding over her and taking the sunlight. She even had a new baby flower trying to grow right underneath her. She was beautiful, she just couldn’t grow enough to show her bright, beautiful petals in her circumstances to the world. When you start to taste what growing feels like, you can sense when you’re not.
So she kept going. Pushing. Learning. Experimenting. As you see her family still try to suck the life, respect, and joy from her, like she is only alive to make them happy, you, the bystander, feel torn up inside. It was like my heart was being stretched, pulled, scraped against the sides of my ribs. How could they do that to a beautiful, amazing, intelligent soul of a woman?
While my heart was fueling with fire, flaming with anger at the injustice, abuse, and cruelty, I never saw one ounce of victimization within her. Never. Not one slice of despair. No blame. No martyrdom. She simply just kept going. She kept trusting her heart, even when the world did not make it easy to do so.
If I can sum up what she taught me in one sentence, it would be that ease and virtue are not a determinant of what is best for you – the feeling of freedom is.
Today, after taking refuge in a DV shelter, finally gaining full custody of her daughter, and driving nine hours to Missoula to set up home in her new city, I imagine her writing on top of a mountain after class. Her daughter is playing in the grass next to her. She’s writing about absolutely everything – her jobs, people, past, pains, dreams, regrets, anger, and sadness. It all comes out. She’s now able to explore within the endless depths of her heart – the world’s heart.
She continues to surface.
She lets it all free.
Because that’s what she feels now.
Finally.
Ali Walks Around 