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.
Dlho som bola moje ja a moje telo. Moje ja tvorili príbehy, vášne, snahy, túžby budúcnosti. Moje ja sa snažilo, aby nebolo produktom mojej divokej minulosti, ale z odpútania, ktoré už nastalo medzi mojím ja a mojím telom, sa predsa len stal dosť podstatný dôsledok. Moje ja sa vždy snažilo, aby bolo niečím, niekým. Moje ja existovalo len v snažení. Telo mu v tom často bránilo.
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.
Moje ja bola vznášajúca sa hlava. Roky som nosievala len klobúky. Tak som zabezpečila, aby hlava držala na mieste. Bol to spôsob, ako sa nájsť. Bála som sa, že ak si dám klobúk dole, už tu viac nebudem. Mala som terapeuta, ktorý mi raz povedal: „Eve, chodíš sem už dva roky, a úprimne povedané, nikdy mi nedošlo, že máš telo.“ Celý tento čas som žila v meste, lebo, ak mám byť úprimná, mala som strach zo stromov. Nikdy som nemala deti, veď hlava nemôže porodiť. Dieťa predsa nevyjde z úst.
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.
Keďže som nemala žiadny referenčný bod pre svoje telo, začala som sa pýtať iných žien na ich telá, a to najmä na ich vagíny, lebo som si myslela, že pošvy sú dosť dôležité. To ma viedlo k napísaniu knihy 'Vagina Monologues,' čo ma viedlo k nutkavému a sústavnému rozprávaniu o pošvách všade, kde sa dalo. Rozprávala som o tom pred mnohými cudzími ľuďmi. Raz večer na javisku som v podstate vstúpila do svojej vagíny. Bol to extatický zážitok. Prestrašil ma, nabil ma energiou, a vtedy sa zo mňa stala riadená osoba, riadená vagína.
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.
Začala som vnímať svoje telo ako vec, vec, čo sa vie rýchlo pohybovať, ako vec, čo môže dosiahnuť ďalšie veci, veľa vecí, všetky naraz. Začala som vnímať svoje telo ako iPad alebo auto. Šoférovala by som ho a čakala, že bude robiť to, čo má. Nemalo obmedzenia. Bolo nepremožiteľné. Malo sa dať podmaniť a ovládnuť ako samotná Zem. Nebrala som naň ohľad, nie, ja som ho organizovala a usmerňovala. Nemala som trpezlivosť so svojím telom; to ja som mu dávala tvar. Bola som nenásytná. Brala som si viac, než mi telo mohlo ponúknuť. Ak som bola unavená, dala som si viac káv. Ak som sa bála, išla som na ešte nebezpečnejšie miesta.
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.
Ale áno, určite boli chvíle, keď som telo docenila, tak ako aj zneužívajúci rodič má niekedy chvíľku vľúdnosti. Môj otec bol ku mne naozaj milý, napríklad na moje 16. narodeniny. Niekedy som začula, ako si ľudia šomrú, že by som mala mať rada svoje telo, tak som sa naučila ako na to. Bola som vegetariánka, striedma, nefajčila som. Ale to bol len rafinovanejší spôsob, ako manipulovať so svojím telom – ďalšie odpútanie, niečo ako založenie zeleninového poľa na autostráde.
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.
V dôsledku mojich rečí o vagíne mi mnohé ženy začali hovoriť o tých svojich – svoje príbehy o ich telách. Pred týmito príbehmi som naozaj neunikla nikde na svete, a to som bola vo viac ako 60 krajinách. Počula som tisícky príbehov, a poviem vám, vždy prišla chvíľa, keď sa mi ženy zverili s istým momentom, keď sa žena oddelila od svojho tela – keď odišla z domu. Počula som o ženách, ktoré obťažovali v ich vlastných lôžkach, ktoré zbičovali v burkách, ponechali na smrť na parkoviskách, poleptali kyslinou v kuchyniach. Niektoré ženy sa utiahli a zmizli. Z ďalších sa stali zúrivé, riadené stroje ako ja.
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.
V polčase mojich ciest som oslávila 40 rokov a začala nenávidieť svoje telo. V podstate išlo o pokrok, pretože moje telo existovalo aspoň natoľko, že som ho neznášala. Nuž, moje brucho – neznášala som svoje brucho. Svedčilo o tom, že nevyhovujem, že som stará, vôbec nie skvostná a dokonalá, že nedokážem zapadnúť do vopred určeného korporátneho obrazu. Moje brucho bolo dôkazom môjho zlyhania, dôkazom, že mi zavarilo, že sa pokazilo. Život sa začal točiť okolo toho, ako sa ho zbaviť, a nutkania sa ho zbaviť. Došlo to až do takých extrémov, že som o tom napísala hru. Ale čím viac som o tom hovorila, tým viac sa moje telo zhmotňovalo a trieštilo. Stala sa z neho zábava, stalo sa novým druhom komodity, niečo, čo som predávala.
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.
Tak som sa vydala niekde inde. Odišla som stadiaľ, kde som to podľa mňa poznala. Išla som do Konžskej demokratickej republiky. A tam som počula príbehy, ktoré prebili všetky ostatné. Počula som príbehy, ktoré mi prenikli do tela. Počula som o dievčatku, ktoré nemohlo prestať na seba cikať, lebo toľko dospelých vojakov prešlo jej telom. Počula som o 80-ročnej žene, ktorej zlomili nohy, vykĺbili z kĺbových jamiek a vykrútili za hlavu, keď ju vojaci takto znásilňovali. Takýchto príbehov sú tisíce, veľa žien malo v sebe diery – otvory, fistuly – ktoré boli násilím vojny – diery v látke ich duší. Tieto príbehy vyplnili moje bunky a nervy, a ak mám byť úprimná, tri roky som nemohla spať.
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.
Všetky tieto príbehy sa rozkrvácali. Znásilňovanie Zeme, drancovanie nerastov, deštrukcia pošiev – už nič nebolo oddelené navzájom alebo odo mňa. Vojaci znásilňovali šesťmesačné bábätká, aby ďaleké krajiny získali prístup k zlatu a koltánu do svojich iPadov a počítačov. Z môjho tela sa stal nielen riadený stroj, ale teraz bolo zodpovedné aj za ničenie tiel iných žien v šialenej túžbe vyrábať viac strojov s cieľom zlepšiť rýchlosť a efektívnosť môjho 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.
Potom som dostala rakovinu – respektíve som zistila, že mám rakovinu. Prišlo to, ako keď vták v rýchlosti vrazí do okna. Náhle som mala telo, telo, ktoré bolo napichnuté, rozrýpané a rozbodané, telo, ktoré bolo rozrezané, telo, ktorému vybrali, preniesli, premiestnili a zrekonštruovali orgány, telo, ktoré bolo zosnímané, do ktorého viedli hadičky, telo, ktoré spaľovali chemikálie. Rakovina rozvalila múr môjho odpútania. Náhle som pochopila, že kríza v mojom tele je krízou vo svete, a, že nepríde neskôr, ale deje sa teraz.
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.
Z mojej rakoviny sa zrazu stala všadeprítomná rakovina, rakovina krutosti, rakovina chamtivosti, rakovina, ktorá preniká do ľudí, ktorí bývajú pri chemických fabrikách – a obvykle sú chudobní –, rakovina v pľúcach baníka, rakovina stresu z nedostatočného výkonu, rakovina pochovanej traumy, rakovina kurčiat v klietkach a kontaminovaných rýb, rakovina materníc znásilnených žien, rakovina, ktorá je všade, z našej ľahostajnosti.
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.
Vo svojej novej a vizionárskej knihe „Nové ja, nový svet“ spisovateľ Philip Shepherd píše: „Ak je človek oddelený od svojho tela, je odtrhnutý aj od tela sveta, ktorý sa potom javí byť iný, než človek je, prípadne izolovaný od človeka, a nie je ako žijúce kontinuum, do ktorého človek patrí.“ Svet pred rakovinou bol iný. Bolo to, akoby som žila v nehybnej bažurine a rakovina odstrelila bralo, ktoré ma delilo od šíreho mora. Teraz si v ňom plávam. Teraz si líham do trávy a telom sa o ňu triem, a páči sa mi, keď mi nohy pokryje blato. Teraz chodievam na každodennú púť ku konkrétnej smutnej vŕbe pri Seine, a neviem sa nasýtiť zelených polí v kríkoch za Bukavu. V silnom lejaku kričím a behám v kruhu.
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.
Viem, že všetko je prepojené a že jazva vinúca sa pozdĺž môjho trupu je znakom zemetrasenia. Som tam s troma miliónmi na uliciach Port-au-Prince. A oheň, ktorý vo mne horel v tretí až šiesty deň chemoterapie, je oheň, ktorý horí v lesoch nášho sveta. Viem, že vred, ktorý sa mi po operácii vytvoril okolo rany, tých 450 gramov hnisu, je kontaminovaný Mexický záliv. Mala som v sebe ropou nasiaknuté pelikány a mŕtve, bruchom hore unášané ryby. A z katétrov, ktoré do mňa vsúvali bez vhodného lieku, som kričala tak, ako kričí rozvŕtavaná Zem.
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.
V čase druhej chemoterapie sa mojej mame veľmi priťažilo a išla som ju pozrieť. V mene vzájomnej prepojenosti chcela pred smrťou len jedinú vec – aby sme ju zobrali domov k jej milovanému Mexickému zálivu. Vzali sme ju teda domov, a modlila som sa, aby ropa nezaniesla maminu pláž skôr, než zomrie. Našťastie nezaniesla. Mama zomrela pokojne na svojom obľúbenom mieste.
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.
O pár týždňov som bola v New Orleans a jedna krásna, oduševnelá priateľka mi povedala, že ma chce vyliečiť. Bolo mi to cťou. Išla som k nej domov, bolo ráno a cez záclony presvitalo raňajšie orleanské slnko. Priateľka pripravovala veľkú misu, spýtala som sa: „Čo to je?“ A ona povedala: „To je pre teba. Kvety ju skrášľujú a med ju osladzuje.“ Povedala som: „A čo tá voda?“ A v mene vzájomnej prepojenosti povedala: „No, to je Mexický záliv.“ A ja som povedala: „Veď ako inak.“ Prišla ďalšia žena a posadili sa do kruhu. Michaela mi omyla hlavu svätou vodou. A spievala – teda celé jej telo spievalo. Aj druhá žena spievala a modlili sa za mňa a moju mamu.
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.
A ako teplý záliv omýval moju holú hlavu, uvedomila som si, že v ňom je to najlepšie a to najhoršie z nás. Bol hrabivosťou a bezohľadnosťou, ktoré viedli k výbuchu vrtu. Bol všetkými tými klamstvami, ktoré sa povedali pred tým i po tom. Bol medom vo vode, ktorú osladil, bol ropou, ktorá ju otrávila. Bol mojou hlavou bez vlasov, ktorá mi už nevadila aj bez klobúka. Bol celým mojím ja, ktoré sa rozplývalo v Michaelinom lone. Bol slzami, nerozoznateľnými od zálivu, čo mi stekali po lícach. Konečne som bola v mojom tele. Bol smútkom, ktorý dlho neodchádzal. Bol miestom, ktoré som si našla, a veľkou zodpovednosťou, ktorú spojenie prináša. Bol pretrvávajúcou ničivou vojnou v Kongu a ľahostajnosťou sveta. Bol konžskými ženami, ktoré sa teraz začínajú búriť. Bol odchádzaním mojej matky, presne vo chvíli, keď som sa narodila. Bol uvedomením si, že som bola až príliš blízko umieraniu – tak ako Zem, naša matka, sa drží z posledných síl, tak ako 75 percent planéty ledva prežíva, tak ako existuje recept na prežitie.
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.
Zistila som, že ide o pozornosť a zdroje, a tieto veci si zaslúži každý. Bol priateľmi, ktorí ma hájili, a bezhranične milujúcou sestrou. Bol múdrymi lekármi a modernou medicínou a chirugami, ktorí vedeli, čo robiť s rukami. Bol slabo platenými a skutočne milujúcimi ošetrovateľkami. Bol magickými liečiteľmi a aromatickými olejmi. Bol ľudmi, čo prišli s kúzlami a obradmi. Bol o tom, aby som mala víziu budúcnosti a mala za čo bojovať, pretože viem, že tento boj nie je mojím bojom. Bol to milión modlitieb. Bolo to tisíckrát aleluja a miliónkrát óm. Bolo to množstvo hnevu, šialeného humoru, mnoho pozornosti, potupy. Bola to energia, láska a radosť. Boli to všetky tieto veci. Boli to všetky tieto veci. Boli to všetky tieto veci vo vode, vo svete, v mojom tele.
(Applause)
(Potlesk)