Beth Bornstein Dunnington
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A Circle Of Women

February 2, 2018

Something extraordinary at LAX today… (writing this on the plane). I was at the gate, waiting to get on my plane to Portland. Flights to two different cities were boarding on either side of the Portland fight. A toddler who looked to be eighteen or so months old was having a total meltdown, running between the seats, kicking and screaming, then lying on the ground, refusing to board the plane (which was not going to Portland). His young mom, who was clearly pregnant and traveling alone with her son, became completely overwhelmed… she couldn’t pick him up because he was so upset, he kept running away from her, then lying down on the ground, kicking and screaming again. The mother finally sat down on the floor and put her head in her hands, with her kid next to her still having a meltdown, and started crying.

Then, this gorgeous thing (I’m crying just writing this)… the women in the terminal, there must have been six or seven of us, not women who knew each other, approached and surrounded her and the little boy and we knelt down and formed a circle around them. I sang “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” to the little boy… one woman had an orange that she peeled, one woman had a little toy in her bag that she let the toddler play with, another woman gave the mom a bottle of water. Someone else helped the mom get the kid’s sippy cup out of her bag and give it to him. It was so gorgeous, there was no discussion and no one knew anyone else, but we were able to calm them both down, and she got her child on the plane.

Only women approached. After they went through the door we all went back to our separate seats and didn’t talk about it… we were strangers, gathering to solve something. It occurred to me that a circle of women, with a mission, can save the world.

I will never forget that moment.

Keeping the spot

10/7/2019

 
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A private message (which I'm sharing because it feels important) from a woman who signed up for my online writers' workshop.

She lives in a city I don't travel to and hasn't taken my workshop before. The fact that she's posted statuses on Facebook that were beautifully written is beside the point.

But I'm mentioning it as a caveat here. You'll see why.

This was our chat.

Her: "Hi, Beth. I took that spot in your workshop, but I think I have to back out." 

Me: "What's going on?"

Her: "Oh, well, I" (pause in the chat) "I wrote something I really liked, and I showed it to my sister, who's an actual writer, and she said it kind of sucked. So, I think it probably does. I may just give my spot to her if that's okay. She wanted to take your workshop anyway and it's sold out. And she's the writer in the family."

Me: "No, I'd like you to take the workshop you signed up and paid for. I don't want your sister to take your spot."

(pause in the chat)

Her: "Why?"

Me: "Because your sister saying your writing 'kind of sucked,' whatever that means, has nothing to do with you finding your story. And your story will be good because it's your story. No one can replace that. Don't give up your spot. That's giving up your voice."

(pause in the chat)

Me: "It's your turn to write."

(pause in the chat)

Her: "Okay, fuck it. It's my turn to write. Thank you. I'll keep the spot."

Oh, boy. How we step to the back of the line... This is a reminder for every one of us. Don't give up your voice. Even for your sister. (Who means well? Hmm.) And don't let ANYONE tell you that what you have to say doesn't have value. It does.
 
One Life.

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  • Home
  • Big Island Writers' Workshops/Galleries
    • Write Now Online
    • In-person Workshops
    • Writing Retreats
    • Writers' Portraits
    • Testimonials
  • Theatre
    • Acting Gallery
    • Directing Gallery
    • Class Gallery
  • Waking Up In Hawai'i Blog
  • Bios
    • Writing
    • Theatre
  • Calendar
  • Contact
  • New on Facebook
  • Performing The Story
  • Performing the Story Gallery