Arlene Taylor

It is the summer of 1998 and I'm 14 years old. It's 10 am on a Friday and its already 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Outside, on the corner of Filmore street, I see 3 cars pass by from where I am home alone, sitting on the step of our trailer – the world looks so bleak. I pick up a pebble from the sanded driveway and throw it into the bushes of roses. The street light is red, no cars are waiting. The pedestrian crosswalk is empty. The traffic signal pole, a shrine for an unknown passed on soul, is laden with dead flowers, holy candles, shoes hanging by their strings, and broken beer bottles. The pole looks comfortable. My eyes close, I bring myself to California State University, Northridge where my sister and I are running through the orange orchard. Our mom is inside of her class, studying to be a Masters prepared educator and she is hidden by one of the large buildings I see in the distance.

The Millennium is here. My childhood is over. I look out to the street and the years I lived before this point are finally understood, not everyone who grows up in Pacoima, California, makes it out alive. The morning was a typical one for me, my mom was away, teaching somewhere, surely working on making ends meet – her norm. My father? Our house foreclosed in 1994, so he left shortly thereafter, it was just the 3 of us those days; he still lives in New York today.

My sister Alexandra, 16 months my senior, was also gone, at her high-school Monroe Magnet, probably joyfully engaged, receiving all that a Los Angeles Unified School District education offered her. I eventually took hold of such opportunities as well and volunteered at Olive View Hospital. There was just something about being in a hospital that made me feel comfortable.

Fast forward one year and I am pregnant with my first son, Aaron. He was such a happy baby. Sweet 16, a Van Nuys Medical Magnet Senior at this point who had completed all of my high school credits. I saw on the couch of my mother friend's apartment, where I was living at the time as it was a step up from the trailer. My mother said it wasn't safe for pregnant girls to live in a trailer.

On February 27, 2002, Aaron Jr. was born at Kaiser Hospital in Panorama City. I had an episiotomy.

I moved in with my boyfriend Aaron Sr. and his mom, and cried with my mother as I left my old place. I was in a severe state of depression those days, yet I did not even know it. I lived like this, laying on the living room floor of my boyfriend’s mother. Many days all I did was lie there, holding my newborn. He was such a calm baby and my boyfriend still attended our high school these days.  I remember one day when my son was probably 2 months old, my aunt called me from New York. She said “Arlene, when are you planning on getting up from the floor?” I looked around, remembering no one was there with me, and so I was certain she could not see me. She encouraged me to attend nursing assistant school, so I could work and take care of my son. I did, I attended West Valley Occupational Center, completed the nursing assistant program, I didn’t attend this graduation, instead- I went back to Van Nuys High School, walked the stage and graduated with my peers. We were the graduation Class of 2002.

August 2002, I found myself passionate about nursing.  My mom encouraged me to continue my education then, suggested I study Registered Nursing, she helped me enroll in a nursing school out of the country in Nuevo Leon, Mexico. My mom took the trip with me and my newborn. She brought us to the Universidad De Montemorelos and helped us settle in. I thrived in the Registered Nursing program there, classes were held in the native language, Spanish; I learned quickly. The year flew by, before long, Aaron was 1 year old, speaking Spanish, and finally running (not walking). This was a different life, people were friendly to me, a single mom- living off campus, they enjoyed giving the “Bebe morenito” love. My sister was also studying at the University during this time, however, she attended the School of Medicine. Some days, carrying my heavy child, I walked long miles from my off-campus apartment to the university, and then back again in the evenings. I wondered, what was the real purpose of my life. I awoke one night, hearing small noises, I remember turning on a light, found myself cursing life, as my baby slept, I sat holding him, watched large roaches - almost the size of my palm, scurrying boldly around the small room, and walking right on over my few belongings; my life felt so irrelevant.

March 3, 2003, I was back in the USA. I got back together with my son’s father, we moved into our own small apartment in Mar Vista, California and I gained my first certified nursing assistant job. I worked the night shift at Sunbridge Convalescent Hospital in Santa Monica and it was also my first day of school at American Career College (ACC). I was enrolled in the Licensed Vocational Nursing (LVN) program. I felt that I was on my way. I had things planned and I would go on graduate first in my class. When this program was over, I skipped this graduation as well and enrolled myself in the Associates Degree Nursing (ADN) program.

ACC joined forces with West Coast University, they were excited about the future prospects; however, now, there were only a few students enrolled in their LVN to ADN program. I went on to graduate 2nd in my nursing class, and the attained the only Deans Award. These years flew by- I still knew what I wanted, or thought I did….This is also the same time where I experienced the end of my first relationship, Aaron Sr. suffered renal failure and started undergoing tri-weekly dialysis; illness, substance use, destroyed hopes, our own parental interference, and life took the toll on us- it wouldn’t be until a few months before his death, May 17, 2017…We would come to terms with our innocent relationship as high school sweethearts and were both able to feel blessed by the time that shared together. We had become great co-parents; unfortunately – with his untimely death, this ended.

August 10, 2007, 21 years old, my second son Moses was born. I found myself in love –  my ex-husband Antoine is a charmer – he can charm the shoes off of a horse. I say he charmed me out of my youth. October 2009, 23 years old, my 3rd child, Amaya Rose, my only daughter, was born. Her birth is exactly one year after the birth of my ex-husband's daughter, a daughter he had with another nurse, someone he worked with. This was a very rocky relationship; started when I was 19 years old, filled with infidelity, physical abuse, financial abuse, fake smiles, and false promises. By 2013, I was almost 30 years old, education wise – this is the year I completed another degree (Masters in Science of Nursing Education), yet felt hopeless in an emotionally bereft, and depressed state.

May 2013, working as a Registered Nurse Supervisor, at Cedars Sinai Medical Center, in the Advanced Heart Failure Unit. Still trying to make my marriage work, suffered one more blow, my husband shared that he had slept with my best friend. This he said, was to prove that she was not a good friend, to highlight what a horrible mother I was, and he questioned how I always managed to be such a poor judge of character. Foolish, hopeless, empty. One morning after working 16 hours, I started driving home, I was so tired, questioned my life again – I could not find the relevance. It was 11 am, alone, I drove myself off of Mountain Gate Drive; over Sepulveda Boulevard. I saw the beautiful horizon and drove towards it. When I realized what was happening, I began to cry. I remember looking around as I was being airlifted by something noisy, an older white man was smiling at me, and when I woke up I was in UCLA Emergency Room. They were cutting off my clothes then, I saw writing on my arm, it was written in my own handwriting; Sharpie? The letters “DNR,” I had written it several times along my arms and chest, even though I could not remember doing this, I know it was me who had written it.

I was introduced to Psychiatry then; I even ran into an old classmate- she shared that she was in her last year of residency, she studied Psychiatry at UCLA, and so was there for training. I stayed (involuntarily) in the Resnick Neuro-Psychiatric Hospital for 14 days and upon discharge – it was mandated that I be discharged to a partial hospitalization program. This is a full day outpatient program, I was able to go home and remorsefully thankful, was able to be reunited with my children.

September 2013, I was a divorced, critical care registered nurse, mother of 3 small children and had an unsuccessful suicide attempt under my belt. I applied to the Post-Masters, Family Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner Post Masters Certification program at the California State University of Los Angeles. I found I had a new passion for mental health nursing and therefore it had to be explored.

My mom and my aunt never ceased to pray for me, nor did they ever stop encouraging me. June 2016, it was time to graduate CSULA, I sincerely wanted to attend this graduation, yet coincidentally this graduation was the same time and date as my son’s graduation from Junior High School, I chose to miss this graduation as well. My mother shared that it was unfair that I not go to my graduation, as it was a time for my children to see my accomplishments, and celebrate how far I had come. My mother also noted that she had not ever seen me graduate, suggested that I go to campus, even though I had missed graduation, to capture the moment with photography wearing my Masters hood, cap, and gown. I listened.

December 7, 2016, sunset for Marcia Varine Yarde Rose. In her life, she was one to encourage progression, always. She, along with my sister, planned to open a clinic in St. Lucia, the country of her birth. My mom, survived multiple sclerosis, only to die from negligence, and perhaps untreated sepsis. By her death, my mom a Masters prepared registered nurse, was a naturopath doctor. She studied ways to teach and preach the provision of health by natural means. My mom was excited, she felt my sister and I could work together, as my sister was almost nearing the completion of her studies to become a Family Practice Physician. She wanted us to form an integrative practice to best suit the health of the community that surrounds us. She had visions of the great work that our clinic would do, she would not let us forget, we must do our parts to aid in the completion of this great work.  

On July 20, 2018, my mother’s would be 64th birthday, now is also, the Grand Opening of The Rose Yarde, Integrative Practice for Primary and Behavioral Health in Granada Hills, California. The resting gift of the time, a chance to care for the community using means that are both holistic and based on evidence-based best practice. This is how we came up with The Rose Consult for collaborative integrative whole person care. We are gladly trailblazing through to provide, Art Gallery Mental Healthcare.

I feel that the state of mental health across this world is in itself bereft; so why isn’t a simplistic nursing based approach to care a plausible solution?  

Follow Arlene’s Journey on Instagram and learn more about The Rose Yarde HERE.

Natalie Karneef

As a writer, I have a longing to tell the truth.

But as a professional career person, truth-telling is not so easy. I have an image to uphold; a service to sell. The truth does not fit neatly into glossy packages and high sales margins.

Our society is formed on getting bigger, better, more. Work harder. Wake up earlier. Get thinner. Be happier. Hide your struggles. And capture it all on Instagram as proof. We are becoming increasingly obsessed with perfectionism; with painting over our undesired feelings and situations, with numbing our pain. And it’s making us lonelier and sadder than ever.

I looked up “empowerment” in the dictionary. The giving or delegation of power or authority; authorization, it said. The giving of an ability; enablement or permission.

I believe that we are building an army of truth. Empowerment, to me, means we are lifting each other up.

Through art, through politics, through song, through social media, through spirituality: we are becoming more honest about who we are, about what we struggle with, and about what we need to be whole. And the more we do it, the more we permission we give each other to do the same. This, to me, is empowerment.

And this giving permission is how we lift each other up. Out of poverty, out of fear, out of discrimination. Out of depression, anxiety, shame. Out of feeling like we’re the only ones struggling.

An empowered woman tells her truth. She might start by telling it to herself, quietly, in her journal or her prayers. Soon, though, it seeps into her relationships, her family, her community. It makes itself known in her friendships, and even, hopefully, in her career. It touches other truths. And we all grow stronger, and kinder.

An empowered woman said this to me, and I’ve never forgotten it: alone we are amazing, but together, we are unstoppable. 

To view more from Natalie, check out Where The Hell is Nat? and Natalie Karneef. 

Darlene Valencia

Photo courtesy of @darleneandnova

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF
YOU ARE AIR
WE NEED TO BREATHE
-CLOUDS AND FOREST 

Empowering myself or empowering the women around me, was never something I set out to do. I set out to find myself, because I got sick of feeling like shit. I wanted out.

I know one too many women who felt or feel this. Let me tell you, the way out was my way in. Into myself. I talk to myself a lot, ask myself all of these questions, gather all the women inside of me and mediate our discussions about my self-doubts. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I encourage you to talk to yourself more. A lot more. The things you’ll find out, all the secrets that come out, all of that stuff will blow your mind. Give you a little push forward.

The more I talked to myself, the more I realized my worth. My value. My power. 
I realized how much of myself I had abandoned, left alone. I cried, and I still do. It’s okay.

This is what I live to be fact. The times you don’t take care of yourself are the times you’re going to face your toughest challenges. It’s so incredibly important to take care of yourself, to nurture yourself, to give yourself all the love that you deserve, because all of that is your strength. It’s important to feed your mind, your soul, and your spirit because all of that helps you see. Do not house or feed what doesn’t need to be. Most importantly, surround yourself with those who motivate, inspire, and help you. Your power can create just as much good as it can bad, so surround yourself with great people...they are your reminders of light. 

If you are a woman, you are a godsend. The next time you feel less than, remind yourself of that. You are a godsend, you are powerful. Practice good, because the world needs us more than ever. Men can’t handle it on their own and they know this.

I wait for the day we, as women, realize our power. Especially if you are brown. That will be the ultimate shift.
 

To view more from Darlene, you can visit her website and Instagram. 

Bretton Riley Keating

My personal definition of female empowerment will likely sound different from many. While I believe in strong women, I believe that the way society teaches us to be strong is entirely backwards. 

Masculinity is associated with rational, logical thought, while femininity includes sensitivity, intuition, and nurturing qualities. These are not black vs. white or boy vs. girl traits. Each and every one of us has both masculine and feminine characteristics. In general, our culture values the masculine to such a degree, that both women and men have been taught to diminish their inner femininity, including their intuitive voices, while enhancing their masculine qualities in order to succeed. 

Women do not need to keep up with men or try to fit into societal, check-the-box constraints. We have always been just as capable as the opposite sex. Proving ourselves capable of climbing ladders or blowing away glass ceilings are wonderful gestures but only if they come from a place of authenticity. Doing so to prove our worth, rather, feeds the mindset that we are not worthy to begin with. 

I believe the most empowering thing we can do, both as men and women in society as it stands currently, is to embrace our soft, nurturing qualities, as well as our fierce ones. This boils down to feeling our emotions again, and tapping into who we were before the world taught us how to be. The majority of individuals have it deeply ingrained to suppress and hold back who we are and how we feel. This applies to men and women alike. Once you tap into the felt sense, a host of authentic power follows suit. Intuitive and deep, anciently-rooted power. 

My ideas on this subject come from a space of having tried to fit into far too many boxes and facing gender discrimination and stereotyping on a deep level. I finally realized the invisible walls surrounding me were killing me slowly and decided that the only way to be is myself. This means voicing who I am and tapping into each of my inherent gifts, especially the ones that the world around me does not actively value. 

In America, I have a few female mentors who embrace their sensitive, intuitive sides. These are not stereotypical, lovey-dovey women who get walked all over. Rather, they are business people, teachers, healers, and leaders in their communities. Each of these women demonstrates love and power in her own unique way. One in particular is fierce, and I am forever grateful for her teaching me how to stand up for myself and to be my own advocate, guide, and teacher. 

While in India, furthering my yoga studies, within the first few weeks of being here, I found it interesting that, in addition to women, I met several intuitive men who serve as healers in the community there. In Western culture, it seems men are encouraged to hide this side of themselves, perhaps even more so than women. The Indian men I have met have decades of credentials, knowledge, and experience in what they do, yet they utilize their felt sense in daily interactions in an open, unabashed way. 

This is what we need more of. People (both men and women) who are aware that there are a million ways to communicate, and (spoken and written) word is only one of them. There are realms that can neither be seen nor tangibly touched, but are ready for us to listen. 

The first step is to undo what we’ve been taught about how to get by in today’s world, which, for me, I know will take decades if not centuries. But I’m willing to do the work. Because I’m tired of feeling disempowered by others telling me that my inner voice isn’t real or worthy. Intuition and sensitivity is just as real as knowledge, and it’s time we recognize it as such. It’s time we embrace the feminine, both within and without, on a deeper level. Doing so will lead to not only female empowerment, but the evolution of society as a whole. 
 

To read more from Bretton, peep Rose E-love Letter or Instagram. 

Barbara Sueko McGuire

Photo courtesy of David Gabe Photography

There’s a throwaway moment from my 20s that nearly 15 years later still hasn’t made it to the dustbin of my memory. A friend was trying to point someone out to me and I couldn’t tell whom she was talking about because I didn’t notice the race of that person then, and I don’t remember it now. 

“That’s weird,” she said. “You don’t see people by color.” 

The whole truth isn’t as simple as that—I do see race, but just not first. In the same vein, when it comes to empowerment, I do see gender, just not first. Each day I aim simply to feel as if I have agency over my life as a human, not as a woman. But of course it’s one in the same by nature of my nature. 

My struggles are far from unique and yet are uniquely female. I fight to avoid definition by a history of sexual assault. I strive for freedom from the need to please others. I confront the challenge of wondering what people think of me, of hoping everyone likes me. I battle with my body and what I put into it and what I ask it to do for me. I worry about my active and privileged choice to be a waitress with a higher education. I question what it means to be single and childless at 35. 

I think and I think and I think, about everything. Nothing is simple and yet still I breathe. I sit in my discomfort and remind myself I need not solve any of these riddles. This is not the life I’ve been given but the life I choose to live. My destiny is my own making and I don’t have any specific plans about how to get to the end, and most days that’s power enough for me.

To view more from Barbara, you can visit website! 

Vanessa Acosta

Photo courtesy of @fromabolivian

Female empowerment is being who you truly are meant to be. As simplistic as that answer may seem, it’s more difficult to achieve for some people. This has been a way of life for me since childhood. I never cared what men or women thought about my way of life, my fashion choices or even the way I carried myself. Gender fluidity was nonexistent in my vocabulary but I experimented in wearing androgynous looks at a young age and broke the barrier on what gender role was defined for me. I’m a cis gender woman but having a pixie cut back in the day and wearing bow ties all the time didn’t define my sexual orientation or chosen gender role. The rise on the feminist movement has exploded in recent years, and I’m happy that more women are realizing how empowering it is to take a stance, see value in themselves, and do everything to support each other. This is nothing new to me though, the patriarchal society never stopped me from pushing to be on the top, never intimidated me from breaking the rules. I’ve been empowered my entire life but only because that’s my personality and even as a little girl I managed to build my own opinions on the world and took the guidance from adults with a grain of salt. We live in an evolving world and today many Americans will be voting for the first women president. We only get to this point because we’ve chosen to rise and be ourselves. It’s a lot of dedication and hard work but the end results are worthy of the fight. So as simple as my pursuit of female empowerment might be, the journey to finding yourself and finding your strength to just being yourself is uphill battle but it’s a rewarding thing. Being an empowered female means a lot of things to different women and that’s the beauty of empowerment, we all build a stronger sense of self from our own experiences.

To view more from Vanessa, you can visit her website and Instagram. 

Yvette Piedra

It’s 2 am and I’m 6 hours into a 12-hour shift. I don’t sleep for fear of missing crisis calls or not hearing the security alarm go off. I work at a domestic violence shelter, and for these 12 hours, I am the only support system these women have. I can’t save these women or protect them, I can simply empower them with the truths that they were deprived of- that they are worthy, they are strong, and they are capable of achieving whatever they set their mind to. Female empowerment is a beautiful yet tragic thing. It is beautiful in the sense that it transcends to women of all walks of life, not just victims, and survivors, and unifies communities to achieve a strong quality of life. The tragic side of female empowerment is the mere fact that it’s even needed to begin with. We live in a world with cultural and societal norms that oppress women, and the second we are empowered enough to break free, we are seen as nasty women.

At 23 years of age it is a very humbling experience to have the lives of many adult women influenced by what I say. They come to me expecting me to know all the answers because of my expensive degree and job title, but what I show them is something not learned in the classroom, nor does it stay in the shelter- it’s respect. If you ask me if I’ve ever been disrespected, the answer is yes. I am disrespected when I don’t get paid as much as a man. I am disrespected when a rapist gets a 3 month sentence. I am disrespected when I am told what I can and cannot do with my body. It is because of this that my work doesn’t stop when I leave the shelter. We are all women who need empowerment. We need to surround ourselves with individuals who see us as equals and inspire us. If you ask me why I believe these things, it’s not simply because I’m a feminist, it is because I am a human being and we are all entitled to our basic human rights.