For a long time, there was me, and my body. Me was composed of stories, of cravings, of strivings, of desires of the future. Me was trying not to be an outcome of my violent past, but the separation that had already occurred between me and my body was a pretty significant outcome. Me was always trying to become something, somebody. Me only existed in the trying. My body was often in the way.
Dugo vremena, postojali smo ja i moje tijelo. Ja sam se sastojala od priča, žudnji, težnji, želja za budućnošću. Nisam pokušavala biti ishod svoje nasilne prošlosti, ali odvajanje koje se već dogodilo između mene i mog tijela bio je veoma značajan ishod. Ja sam uvijek željela postati nešto, netko. Ja sam postojala samo u pokušavanju. Tijelo mi je često bilo prepreka.
Me was a floating head. For years, I actually only wore hats. It was a way of keeping my head attached. It was a way of locating myself. I worried that [if] I took my hat off I wouldn't be here anymore. I actually had a therapist who once said to me, "Eve, you've been coming here for two years, and, to be honest, it never occurred to me that you had a body." All this time I lived in the city because, to be honest, I was afraid of trees. I never had babies because heads cannot give birth. Babies actually don't come out of your mouth.
Ja sam bila plutajuća glava. Godinama sam zapravo nosila samo šešire. To je bio način da održim glavu pričvršćenom. Bio je to način da se lociram. Brinula sam se da više neću biti ovdje ako skinem šešir. Zapravo sam imala terapeuta koji mi je jednom rekao, „Eve, dolaziš ovdje već dvije godine i da budem iskren nikada mi nije palo na pamet da imaš tijelo“. Svo ovo vrijeme živjela sam u gradu jer sam se, da budem iskrena, bojala drveća. Nikada nisam imala djecu jer glava ne može roditi. Djeca zapravo ne dolaze iz vaših usta.
As I had no reference point for my body, I began to ask other women about their bodies -- in particular, their vaginas, because I thought vaginas were kind of important. This led to me writing "The Vagina Monologues," which led to me obsessively and incessantly talking about vaginas everywhere I could. I did this in front of many strangers. One night on stage, I actually entered my vagina. It was an ecstatic experience. It scared me, it energized me, and then I became a driven person, a driven vagina.
S obzirom da nisam imala referentnu točku za svoje tijelo, počela sam ispitivati druge žene o njihovim tijelima -- točnije, njihovim vaginama jer sam smatrala da su vagine nekako važne. To me dovelo do pisanja „Vagininih monologa“ što me odvelo do opsesivnog i neprestanog pričanja o vaginama gdje god sam mogla. Radila sam to pred mnogim strancima. Jedne večeri na pozornici, zapravo sam stupila u svoju vaginu. Bilo je to presretno iskustvo. Preplašilo me, dalo mi energiju i onda sam postala motivirana osoba, motivirana vagina.
I began to see my body like a thing, a thing that could move fast, like a thing that could accomplish other things, many things, all at once. I began to see my body like an iPad or a car. I would drive it and demand things from it. It had no limits. It was invincible. It was to be conquered and mastered like the Earth herself. I didn't heed it; no, I organized it and I directed it. I didn't have patience for my body; I snapped it into shape. I was greedy. I took more than my body had to offer. If I was tired, I drank more espressos. If I was afraid, I went to more dangerous places.
Počela sam gledati svoje tijelo kao stvar, stvar koja se brzo može kretati, kao stvar koja može postići druge stvari, mnoge stvari, sve odjednom. Počela sam gledati svoje tijelo kao iPad ili auto. Vozila bih ga i zahtijevala stvari od njega. Nije imalo granice. Bilo je nepobjedivo. Trebalo je biti osvojeno i savladano kao Zemlja sama. Nisam obraćala pažnju, ne, organizirala sam je i režirala. Nisam imala strpljenja za svoje tijelo; pukla sam. Bila sam pohlepna. Uzela sam više no što je moje tijelo ponudilo. Kad bih bila umorna, pila bih više espressa. Kad bih se bojala, išla bih na opasnija mjesta.
Oh sure, sure, I had moments of appreciation of my body, the way an abusive parent can sometimes have a moment of kindness. My father was really kind to me on my 16th birthday, for example. I heard people murmur from time to time that I should love my body, so I learned how to do this. I was a vegetarian, I was sober, I didn't smoke. But all that was just a more sophisticated way to manipulate my body -- a further disassociation, like planting a vegetable field on a freeway.
O, naravno, naravno, imala sam trenutke kada sam cijenila svoje tijelo, na način koji uvredljiv roditelj ponekad ima trenutke ljubaznosti. Moj otac je bio veoma ljubazan prema meni na moj šesnaesti rođendan, na primjer. Čula sam kako ljudi mumljaju s vremena na vrijeme kako bih trebala voljeti svoje tijelo, pa sam naučila kako to učiniti. Bila sam vegetarijanka, bila sam trijezna, nisam pušila. Ali sve to je bio sofisticiraniji način kako manipulirati svojim tijelom -- daljnja disocijacija, poput sađenja povrtnjaka na autocesti.
As a result of me talking so much about my vagina, many women started to tell me about theirs -- their stories about their bodies. Actually, these stories compelled me around the world, and I've been to over 60 countries. I heard thousands of stories, and I have to tell you, there was always this moment where the women shared with me that particular moment when she separated from her body -- when she left home. I heard about women being molested in their beds, flogged in their burqas, left for dead in parking lots, acid burned in their kitchens. Some women became quiet and disappeared. Other women became mad, driven machines like me.
Kao rezultat toga što toliko govorim o svojoj vagini, mnogo žena mi je počelo govoriti o svojima -- svoje priče o njihovim tijelima. Zapravo, ove priče natjerale su me oko cijelog svijeta i bila sam u preko 60 zemalja. Čula sam tisuće priča. I moram vam reći, uvijek je postojao taj trenutak kada su žene sa mnom podijelile taj određen trenutak kada se ona odvojila od njenog tijela -- kada je otišla kući. Čula sam o ženama koje su bile zlostavljane u svojim krevetima, išibane u svojim burkama, nasmrt ostavljene na parkiralištima, opečene kiselinom u svojim kuhinjama. Neke žene su postale tihe i nestale su. Druge su žene postale ljute, motivirani strojevi poput mene.
In the middle of my traveling, I turned 40 and I began to hate my body, which was actually progress, because at least my body existed enough to hate it. Well my stomach -- it was my stomach I hated. It was proof that I had not measured up, that I was old and not fabulous and not perfect or able to fit into the predetermined corporate image in shape. My stomach was proof that I had failed, that it had failed me, that it was broken. My life became about getting rid of it and obsessing about getting rid of it. In fact, it became so extreme I wrote a play about it. But the more I talked about it, the more objectified and fragmented my body became. It became entertainment; it became a new kind of commodity, something I was selling.
Na sredini svog putovanja napunila sam 40 godina i počela mrziti svoje tijelo, što je zapravo bio napredak, zato što je moje tijelo postojalo barem da ga mrzim. Doduše želudac -- mrzila sam svoj želudac. On je bio dokaz da se nisam izmjerila, da sam bila stara i nisam bila nevjerojatna i nisam bila savršena ni sposobna stati u određeni oblik. Moj želudac je bio dokaz da nisam uspjela, da mi to nije uspjelo, da je bilo slomljeno. Moj se život sveo na to da ga se riješim i opsesija da ga se riješim. Zapravo, postalo je toliko ekstremno da sam napisala dramu o tome. Ali što sam više pričala o tome, tim je više moje tijelo postajalo ostvarivo i razlomljeno. Postalo je zabava, postalo je nova vrsta robe, nešto što sam prodavala.
Then I went somewhere else. I went outside what I thought I knew. I went to the Democratic Republic of Congo. And I heard stories that shattered all the other stories. I heard stories that got inside my body. I heard about a little girl who couldn't stop peeing on herself because so many grown soldiers had shoved themselves inside her. I heard an 80-year-old woman whose legs were broken and pulled out of her sockets and twisted up on her head as the soldiers raped her like that. There are thousands of these stories, and many of the women had holes in their bodies -- holes, fistula -- that were the violation of war -- holes in the fabric of their souls. These stories saturated my cells and nerves, and to be honest, I stopped sleeping for three years.
Zatim sam otišla negdje drugdje. Otišla sam van onoga što sam mislila da sam znala. Otišla sam u Demokratsku Republiku Kongo. I čula sam priče koje su razbile sve druge priče. Čula sam priče koje su ušle unutar mog tijela. Čula sam o maloj djevojčici koja nije mogla prestati piškiti po sebi zato što se mnogo odraslih vojnika bilo uguralo u nju. Čula sam osamdesetogodišnjakinju čije su noge bile slomljene i izvučene iz čarapa i izvrnute na glavu dok su je vojnici tako silovali. Postoje tisuće ovakvih priča. I mnoge žene su imale rupe na svojim tijelima -- rupe, fistule -- koje su povreda rata -- rupe u tkanini njihovih duša. Te su priče zasitile moje stanice i živce. I da budem iskrena, nisam spavala tri godine.
All the stories began to bleed together. The raping of the Earth, the pillaging of minerals, the destruction of vaginas -- none of these were separate anymore from each other or me. Militias were raping six-month-old babies so that countries far away could get access to gold and coltan for their iPhones and computers. My body had not only become a driven machine, but it was responsible now for destroying other women's bodies in its mad quest to make more machines to support the speed and efficiency of my machine.
Sve su priče zajedno počele krvariti. Silovanje Zemlje, pljačkanje minerala, uništavanje vagina -- nijedna od ovih nije bila odvojena više od ostalih ili mene. Narodna vojska silovala je šestomjesečnu djecu kako bi udaljene zemlje mogle dobiti pristup zlatu i koltanu za njihove iPhone i računala. Moje tijelo nije postalo samo motivirani stroj, već je bilo odgovorno za uništavanje tuđih ženskih tijela u svom ludom pohodu kako bi napravilo još više strojeva kako bi se podržala brzina i učinkovitost mog stroja.
Then I got cancer -- or I found out I had cancer. It arrived like a speeding bird smashing into a windowpane. Suddenly, I had a body, a body that was pricked and poked and punctured, a body that was cut wide open, a body that had organs removed and transported and rearranged and reconstructed, a body that was scanned and had tubes shoved down it, a body that was burning from chemicals. Cancer exploded the wall of my disconnection. I suddenly understood that the crisis in my body was the crisis in the world, and it wasn't happening later, it was happening now.
Onda sam dobila rak -- ili sam otkrila da imam rak. Došlo je to poput brze ptice koja udara u prozorsko okno. Odjednom, imala sam tijelo, tijelo koje su ubadali, gurkali i punktirali, tijelo koje su širom razrezali, tijelo čije su organe uklonili i transportirali, preuredili i obnovili, tijelo koje je bilo skenirano i imalo cjevčice zabijene u njega, tijelo koje je gorjelo od kemikalija. Rak je razorio zid moje razjedinjenosti. Odjednom sam razumjela da je kriza u mom tijelu kriza u svijetu i nije se događala kasnije, događala se sada.
Suddenly, my cancer was a cancer that was everywhere, the cancer of cruelty, the cancer of greed, the cancer that gets inside people who live down the streets from chemical plants -- and they're usually poor -- the cancer inside the coal miner's lungs, the cancer of stress for not achieving enough, the cancer of buried trauma, the cancer in caged chickens and polluted fish, the cancer in women's uteruses from being raped, the cancer that is everywhere from our carelessness.
Odjednom, moj rak je bio rak koji se nalazio posvuda, rak okrutnosti, rak pohlepe, rak koji ulazi unutar ljudi koji žive blizu kemijskih tvornica -- i obično su prilično siromašni -- rak unutar rudarevih pluća, rak zbog stresa jer nismo dovoljno postigli, rak zbog pokopanih trauma, rak u zatvorenim kokošima i zagađenim ribama, rak u ženskim maternicama zbog zlostavljanja, rak koji je posvuda zbog našeg nemara.
In his new and visionary book, "New Self, New World," the writer Philip Shepherd says, "If you are divided from your body, you are also divided from the body of the world, which then appears to be other than you or separate from you, rather than the living continuum to which you belong." Before cancer, the world was something other. It was as if I was living in a stagnant pool and cancer dynamited the boulder that was separating me from the larger sea. Now I am swimming in it. Now I lay down in the grass and I rub my body in it, and I love the mud on my legs and feet. Now I make a daily pilgrimage to visit a particular weeping willow by the Seine, and I hunger for the green fields in the bush outside Bukavu. And when it rains hard rain, I scream and I run in circles.
U svojoj novoj, vizionarskoj knjizi „Novi ja, novi svijet“, pisac Philip Shepher kaže, „Ako ste odvojeni od svog tijela, također ste odvojeni i od tijela svijeta, koje se onda čini drugačijim od vas ili od toga kako se odvajate od njega, radije nego živući kontinuitet kojem pripadate“. Prije raka, svijet je bio nešto drugo. Bilo je to kao da živim u ustajalom bazenu i rak je razbio stijenu koja me odvajala od velikog mora. Sada plivam u njemu. Sada legnem na travu i trljam tijelo o nju i volim blato na svojim nogama i stopalima. Sada imam dnevno hodčašće kako bih posjetila određenu žalosnu vrbu pokraj Seine i žudim za zelenim poljima u divljini izvan Bukava. A kada lije kiša vrištim i trčim u krug.
I know that everything is connected, and the scar that runs the length of my torso is the markings of the earthquake. And I am there with the three million in the streets of Port-au-Prince. And the fire that burned in me on day three through six of chemo is the fire that is burning in the forests of the world. I know that the abscess that grew around my wound after the operation, the 16 ounces of puss, is the contaminated Gulf of Mexico, and there were oil-drenched pelicans inside me and dead floating fish. And the catheters they shoved into me without proper medication made me scream out the way the Earth cries out from the drilling.
Znam da je sve povezano i ožiljak koji se proteže duž mog tijela je oznaka potresa. I ja sam tamo s tri milijuna na ulicama Port-au-Princea. I vatra koja gori u meni trećeg dana od šest kemoterapija je vatra koja gori u šumama svijeta. I znam da je gnojna upala koja se stvorila oko moje rane nakon operacije, 4 dl gnoja, to je zagađeni Meksički zaljev, i postojali su uljem natopljeni pelikani u meni i mrtve plutajuće ribe. A kateteri koje su zabili u mene bez odgovarajućih lijekova natjerali su me da vrištim kao što Zemlja plače zbog bušenja.
In my second chemo, my mother got very sick and I went to see her. And in the name of connectedness, the only thing she wanted before she died was to be brought home by her beloved Gulf of Mexico. So we brought her home, and I prayed that the oil wouldn't wash up on her beach before she died. And gratefully, it didn't. And she died quietly in her favorite place.
Za vrijeme druge kemoterapije moja se majka jako razboljela i otišla sam je posjetiti. I u ime povezanosti, jedina stvar koju je željela prije no što je umrla jest da je se odvede kući u njen voljeni Meksički zaljev. Odveli smo je kući i molila sam se da ulje ne ispere njenu plažu prije no što umre. I na sreću, nije. I spokojno je umrla na svom omiljenom mjestu.
And a few weeks later, I was in New Orleans, and this beautiful, spiritual friend told me she wanted to do a healing for me. And I was honored. And I went to her house, and it was morning, and the morning New Orleans sun was filtering through the curtains. And my friend was preparing this big bowl, and I said, "What is it?" And she said, "It's for you. The flowers make it beautiful, and the honey makes it sweet." And I said, "But what's the water part?" And in the name of connectedness, she said, "Oh, it's the Gulf of Mexico." And I said, "Of course it is." And the other women arrived and they sat in a circle, and Michaela bathed my head with the sacred water. And she sang -- I mean her whole body sang. And the other women sang and they prayed for me and my mother.
Nekoliko tjedana kasnije bila sam u New Orleansu, i jedna divna, duhovna prijateljica mi je rekla da bi željela za mene napraviti iscjeljenje. I bila sam počašćena. Otišla sam u njenu kuću i bilo je jutro, jutro u kojem se sunce New Orleansa probijalo kroz zastore. Moja prijateljica je pripremala tu veliku zdjelu, i rekla sam, „Što je to?“, a ona je rekla, „To je za tebe. Cvijeće ga čini lijepim, med ga čini slatkim“. A ja sam rekla, „Ali što je vodeni dio?“ i u ime povezanosti, rekla je, „Oh, to je Meksički zaljev“. A ja sam rekla, „Naravno da je“. Zatim je stigla druga žena i sjele su u krug, a Michaela je kupala moju glavu posvećenom vodom. I pjevala je -- mislim cijelo tijelo joj je pjevalo. A druga žena je pjevala i molile su se za mene i moju majku.
And as the warm Gulf washed over my naked head, I realized that it held the best and the worst of us. It was the greed and recklessness that led to the drilling explosion. It was all the lies that got told before and after. It was the honey in the water that made it sweet, it was the oil that made it sick. It was my head that was bald -- and comfortable now without a hat. It was my whole self melting into Michaela's lap. It was the tears that were indistinguishable from the Gulf that were falling down my cheek. It was finally being in my body. It was the sorrow that's taken so long. It was finding my place and the huge responsibility that comes with connection. It was the continuing devastating war in the Congo and the indifference of the world. It was the Congolese women who are now rising up. It was my mother leaving, just at the moment that I was being born. It was the realization that I had come very close to dying -- in the same way that the Earth, our mother, is barely holding on, in the same way that 75 percent of the planet are hardly scraping by, in the same way that there is a recipe for survival.
I kako se topao zaljev prelio po mojoj goloj glavi, shvatila sam da sam držala ono najbolje i najgore od nas. Bila je to pohlepa i nesmotrenost koja je dovela do strašne eksplozije. Bile su to sve laži koje su rečene prije i kasnije. Bio je to med u vodi koji ju je zasladio, bilo je to ulje od kojeg se razboljelo. Bila je to moja ćelava glava kojoj je sada bilo ugodno bez šešira. Cijela sam se topila u Mihaelinom krilu. Bile su to suze koje se nisu vidjele od zaljeva koje su padale niz obraze. Konačno je to bilo moje tijelo. Bila je to tuga kojoj je toliko trebalo. Bilo je to pronalaženje mog mjesta i golema odgovornost koja dolazi s vezom. Bio je to neprekidan poražavajući rat u Kongu i različitost svijeta. Bile su to žene iz Konga koje su sada ustajale. Bila je to moja majka koja je odlazila, baš u trenu kada sam se ja rađala. Bilo je to razumijevanje da sam došla veoma blizu smrti -- na isti način na koji se Zemlja, naša majka, jedva drži, na isti način na koji se 75 posto planeta teško grebe, na isti način da postoji recept za preživljavanje.
What I learned is it has to do with attention and resources that everybody deserves. It was advocating friends and a doting sister. It was wise doctors and advanced medicine and surgeons who knew what to do with their hands. It was underpaid and really loving nurses. It was magic healers and aromatic oils. It was people who came with spells and rituals. It was having a vision of the future and something to fight for, because I know this struggle isn't my own. It was a million prayers. It was a thousand hallelujahs and a million oms. It was a lot of anger, insane humor, a lot of attention, outrage. It was energy, love and joy. It was all these things. It was all these things. It was all these things in the water, in the world, in my body.
Ono što sam naučila ima veze s pažnjom i izvorima koje svatko zaslužuje. Bili to dragi prijatelji i voljena sestra. Bili to mudri doktori i napredna medicina i kirurzi koji znaju što da rade sa svojim rukama. Bile to potplaćene i veoma voljene medicinske sestre. Bili to magični iscjelitelji i aromatična ulja. Bili to ljudi koji dolaze sa činima i ritualima. Bilo to imanje vizije za budućnost i nešto za što se možete boriti, zato što znam da ova borba nije samo moja. Bilo je tu milijun molitvi. Tisuću aleluja i milijuni omova. Bilo je mnogo ljutnje, ludog humora, mnogo pažnje, uvreda. Bilo je energije, ljubavi i radosti. Bile su sve te stvari. Bile su sve te stvari. Sve te stvari su bile u vodi, svijetu, u mom tijelu.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)