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April 30, 2021 By HallieZ 4 Comments

WE. DO. NOT. FORGIVE YOU

We are standing next to one another, all of us, who were impacted by the arrest of Josh Duggar by federal agents, yesterday.

We are the daughters. The sons. The sisters. The brothers. The wives. The ex-wives. 

We are the shunned. The fractured.

We are the voice that will not be silenced. 

We don’t believe there is any justice, and yet, we fight for it every day of our life.

We aren’t sure there is a way out of this tar pit called life, but we keep moving, and we hold every inch of progress we make.

We can’t stop crying today. 

We had put our crying on hold for a bit, bottled the grief up, put a cork on it.  But the cork got popped again, yesterday. Sometimes that happens. 

We are ok with that.

We  were children.

We stood over chairs, your lap, over toilets, with our pants pulled down, and you beat us with sticks. With belts. With electrical wire.

We held the books you bought at the conferences, that taught you how to do this without going to jail.

We dressed in tents, in jeans too big, dresses that tried to drown us in the rivers where we played. 

We were children. 

You taught us that our bodies were not ours to give. 

But you took what you wanted, and called that God.

YOU LIED.

We understood, we obeyed. 

You put the books of another Josh in our hands, and said those were God’s words. THEY WERE NOT.

We were children. 

You kept us from our grandparents, our cousins. You kept us from our neighbors and the world that longed to show us something more… not perfect, not always good, but something bigger,  something REAL. You hid books, and stories, and faces that looked different from ours, and called that GOD’S WILL. 

You lied.

Some of us were born with a uterus, with breast. Blood that came from our body in clumps, or a stream, a curse, and a gift.

We were named Jezebel.

We were called rebellious.

We stood in the shadow of shame, while you told us who we were.

We stood in the shadow of heresy, while you told us what God wanted us to be.

We read the stories of the witches, because we both feared and loved them.

I am a woman. But I know you have hurt my brothers just as much as you hurt me. And I will not dare speak for them, you spoke for them long enough. And you LIED to me about who they were. When you lied to them about who I was? You stole their future. You stole their success. You wounded generations, and you will answer for it.

WE. DO. NOT. FORGIVE YOU.

When you told her an education and  career would be a waste resources, because she’d be busy raising the children? You lied.

When you looked your daughter in the face, and told her “your husband didn’t commit adultery because his penis didn’t GO INSIDE HER VAGINA, and therefore God will NOT allow you to divorce him”.

When you learned your sons had molested your daughters, and you put them on farms, and in “restoration” programs, and NOT IN JAIL, YOU BETRAYED US.

When you saw bruised and broken children, and you “mentored” their parents and did not protect the children.

When you banned us from family gatherings, because we did not “submit” to your patriarchal rule.

When you gathered around one another, and created an echo chamber and egged each other on to further abuse.

WE. DO. NOT. FORGIVE YOU.

Filed Under: DEPRESSION, divorce, Feminism, Grief, healing, homeschooling, life after missions, Sacred Feminine, Spiritual Abuse, Uncategorized

April 28, 2019 By HallieZ 1 Comment

i can wait

Feeling trapped, afraid of rejection, I force the words out

“I don’t know what I want”.

He speaks clearly.

“I can wait”.

All the bells go off in my head. I am scared and I wonder if it is real, but I am not sure and I don’t know.

Softly, he cautiously voices the last thing I was expecting to hear.

 “I am not asking you for anything you can’t give”.

I don’t know how to do this, really. I don’t know how to accept a man holding space for me.

It is easier for me to just assume that all men only want one thing.

It is easier to sign on for the toxic and not-nuanced expectations of what it means to be a man.

I know how to be demanded of.

I know how to give in to control and coercion. 

I know how to submit, how to swear to a man that I am not real and never existed and agree that it is true, what I want doesn’t matter. In fact, what I thought I wanted isn’t something I want at all and is actually quite BAD.

He holds me close. His breath matches mine and I watch the clouds go by.

All is still.

This is new.

I am scared.

Maybe it REALLY is ok with him, if I am real. 

Maybe it REALLY is ok if I want and need.

Maybe my answer is worth waiting for.

  • He is the men who have come into my life since my divorce and given me glimpses of what a man can be. Thank you for being a part of my journey.

Filed Under: divorce, Feminism, healing, kindness, life after missions, love, Sacred Feminine, Uncategorized

June 25, 2018 By HallieZ 1 Comment

Dear Son, A Gift You Could Miss

Dear Son,

You were at your daddy’s all week, and I missed you SO MUCH!

You’re little still, and this won’t be for you to read for some time, but it was pounding in my heart today, and I thought I would write it down for you, and maybe you won’t ever need to read it, because it will be in our every day and it will be who you are… but still. Here I am, son-of-my-heart. All the love in the world for you, and, you know your mama, SO MANY WORDS!!!

Last night I went to a comedy show with some friends, downtown, and it went late. I never find myself walking through the nightlife of Salem Oregon past 10pm! But there I was.

Headed toward my car, I was. Minding my own business, skirt swishing, heels tapping, when a car full of men drove by.

(I know, gross, I’m your mom, but still… its my story, dude)

“Girl! HOT DAMN, YOU GOT AN ASS”

and then the things you can imagine that followed that.

Mama don’t mess. As you know. No, I didn’t flip them (because, I save my energy for shit that matters) and I didn’t feel ashamed (because, well, we all know I DO have an ass on me)

It took me a couple days to figure out what was simmering in my soul, after that night.

You’ve heard a lot of it, son.

“ treat women with respect, that’s someone’s wife/mom/sister/daughter”.

Its all true and good, my boy.

But here’s what my mama heart is saying.

When you treat women like that?

YOU ARE THE ONE LOSING

 

When you drive by, and all you see is an ass?

You miss the power in her soul.

 

When you declare over a woman a thing?

You miss her truth and you get stuck in your perception.

 

Every woman, all over the world, is holding a gift inside her heart, a gift more beautiful than you can probably even imagine.

Son.

It might be her friendship, steady and true.

It might be her voice, powerful in tenderness.

 

Her gift might be her body, wrapping you in comfort.

It might be the heat of her passion, shaking you to your core.

 

Her gift might be a truth, typed out on a paper, or etched in stone.

 

And son, you may hold a gift for her.

You can show up,

you can stand still,

you can drive by,

you can SEE.

 

You can look past that ass. And find her.

 

And my son.

It could break your heart, and it may break hers,

and son,

It will make you a real man.

Always, your mama

Filed Under: Feminism, kindness, love, parenting, Sacred Feminine Tagged With: Letters to my children

April 15, 2018 By HallieZ 2 Comments

#Proverbs31IRL


A virtuous woman, who can find? She is far more precious than minimum wage. 

She is worth $25 an hour (according to the judge, but her paycheck has yet to be informed).

The heart of her multitudinous children (who ARE a blessing from the Lord, dammit!) trust her, and will have no luck convincing her to buy them an iPad.

She does them good, and does not yell at them, all the days of her life

(well at least, like, 95% of the time, you know, when she remembers her meds).

She is like the ship of merchants, and overstocks her barns with food from Costco. 

She rises while it is yet night and drives her children to school while simultaneously weaving, patching hand-me-downs and doing her magical work-from-home minimum wage job..

She considers buying a field, but realizes that her food stamps probably won’t transfer to real estate.

She perceives her merchandise is profitable, and puts it on her to-do list to start an Etsy shop in 2025 when she’s done doing the laundry.

She dyes her hair with pink, and is clothed with strength and dignity, and she sure as hell ain’t got time for stilettos. 

Her lamp goes out at night, but there are charities who get her electricity back on.

SHE is not afraid of snow, but unfortunately her school district is, so FUGGETABOUTIT! You can sleep when you’re dead!

She looks well in her house in her track pants and her badass tiara, and does not eat the gluten of fatness (unless she just REALLY deserves a doughnut).

She opens her mouth and drops truth bombs like it’s nobody’s business, and she smashes ALL THE PATRIARCHY!

She laughs at the time to come… because she knows she’s gonna prove wrong everyone who told her she wasn’t enough.

She was taught she needed a husband to define her, but the voice of Wisdom was a woman crying out in the streets, and she chose to let Wisdom’s voice define her instead.

Her children rise up and call her blessed, and her Father in heaven EXPLODES with pride, praising her:

“Many women have done excellently, but YOU surpass them all.”

Charm is deceitful, and financial stability is over-rated, but but the virtuous woman who loves the Lord kicks ass.

Give her her child support, and let all the people stand in awe of her amazon strength.

 


 By Deanna Fraser & Hallie Ziebart

I have had enough. Enough beating women over the head with this fictional woman. Enough telling us there’s only one way for us to be awesome. Enough skipping over Jael and Abigail and Deborah and… Enough making the single mamas feel like second class nothing. Enough.

Can you share your IN REAL LIFE Proverbs 31 moments with me?

 #Proverbs31IRL

Or link up a blog or story in the comments!

Or tag a friend and brag on them!

I was ranting to my pal Deanna about this the other day, and she wrote this version of Proverbs 31 for me. It is with her kind permission I share. And say… go check out her album. Deanna was a lifeline for me when we both lived in China. And both made it out alive. Broken, but alive!!!

 

AND… Some links to some stuff that might help you out if hearing Proverbs 31 talked about like this makes you want to rip me apart. Or, if just hearing the phrase made you throw up in your mouth a little bit.

Things you might not know about Proverbs31

A Smart Dude on Wisdom

Filed Under: divorce, Feminism, healing, love, Sacred Feminine, speaking up, Spiritual Abuse, Uncategorized

February 26, 2018 By HallieZ Leave a Comment

Diamonds

I am walking out of the grocery store.

Yesterday, my friend told me to ask the Divine One to heal, to bring hope and freedom to the sexually traumatized parts of my mind and body. She told me to ask for specific moments of healing, and that she KNEW they would come to me if I asked.

After more than a year without flashbacks, an event had come out of nowhere this week, and started the vivid images and memories playing like a tape on repeat.

 

“what do I do?”

I ask, and it is a sigh, a sob, and a prayer.

The tapes play on silent, but the subtitles read:

 

Replaceable

PROPERTY

Old news

NO CHOICE

Saggy

WORTHLESS

 

THEN

I hear it like a soft whisper.

“loosen your waist”

“open your hips, let them swing the way they were meant to”

I imagine my skeleton, the way my bones move and glide together, the gait of a human being, in slow motion.

I breath deeply.

I drop my waist. I open my hips. They sway and swing.

I lift my eyes, instinctually, and a smile spreads across my face.

The girl scout cookie mama catches my eye, and we grin at each other, I suspect we are in on the wonder of it together.

These words pulse in my heart and up into my throat.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

And just like that, another wave of healing has broken over this weary soul.

 

 

 

 

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Filed Under: divorce, Feminism, Grief, healing, love, Sacred Feminine, speaking up, Spiritual Abuse, Uncategorized Tagged With: Survivor Songs

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