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 telo. Mene su sačinjavale priče, nagoni, težnje, želje o budućnosti. Ja sam pokušavala da ne podlegnem posledicama svoje prošlosti ispunjene nasiljem, ali je podeljenost na moje telo i mene, koja se već bila javila, bila prilično značajan ishod. Ja sam pokušavala da postanem nešto, neko. Ja sam postojala samo u pokušavanju. Moje telo bi se često našlo na putu.
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 nosila kape. To je bio način da zadržim svoju glavu prikačenu. To je bio način samolociranja. Brinula sam da ako bih skinula kapu ne bih više bila tu. Imala sam psihoterapeuta koji mi je jednom rekao: "Iv, dolazite ovde dve godine i, iskreno, nikada mi nije palo na pamet da Vi imate i telo." Sve to vreme sam živela u gradu jer, da budem iskrena, plašila sam se drveća. Nikada nisam rodila dete jer glave ne mogu da rađaju. Bebe ne izlaze iz 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.
Kako nisam imala referentnu tačku za svoje telo, počela sam da zapitkujem druge žene o njihovim telima, tačnije, o njihovim vaginama, jer sam smatrala da su vagine prilično važne. To je dovelo do pisanja "Vagininih monologa" što je uzrokovalo da opsesivno i neprekidno govorim o vaginama gde god sam mogla. Radila sam to pred puno nepoznatih. Jedne noći na pozornici sam zapravo ušla u svoju vaginu. To je bilo neverovatno iskustvo. Uplašilo me je, ali mi i dalo energiju i postala sam osoba sa ciljem, vagina sa ciljem.
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 da vidim svoje telo kao stvar, stvar koja je mogla brzo da se kreće, kao stvar koja je mogla da postigne druge stvari, mnoge stvari, sve odjednom. Počela sam da vidim svoje telo kao ajped (iPad) ili auto. Vozila bih ga i zahtevala da izvrši neku radnju. Granice nisu postojale. Bilo je nepobedivo. Trebalo ga je osvojiti i zagospodariti njime, kao i sa Zemljom. Nisam ga negovala, ne, već organizovala i upravljala njime. Nisam imala strpljenja za svoje telo, Nabijala sam ga u određene okvire. Bila sam pohlepna. Uzimala sam više nego što je moje telo moglo da pruži. Ako sam bila umorna, pila sam više kafe. Kada sam bila uplašena, išla sam na strašnija mesta.
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 da je bilo trenutaka kada sam cenila svoje telo slično kao kada nasilni roditelj nekada bude pažljiv i nežan. Moj otac je zaista bio ljubazan prema meni za moj 16. rođendan, na primer. Čula sam s vremena na vreme kako neki ljudi mrmljaju o tome kako treba voleti svoje telo, pa sam naučila kako da to radim. Bila sam vegeterijanac, trezna i nisam pušila. Ali sve to je samo bio sofisticiraniji način manipulacije moga tela, dalja disocijacija, kao kad bi zasadili baštu na autoputu.
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 tolikog mog pričanja o vagini, mnoge žene su počele da mi pričaju o svojim telima Zapravo, ove priče su me i odvele širom sveta i posetila sam više od 60 zemalja. Čula sam hiljade priča, i moram vam reći da je uvek postojao momenat dok su te žene delile sa mnom svoje priče, taj određeni momenat kada bi se ona otuđila od svog tela, kada je napustila dom. Čula sam o ženama koje su maltretirane u svojim krevetima, šibane u svojim burkama, ostavljene da umru na parkinzima, izgorene kiselinom u svojim kuhinjama. Neke su se ućutale i nestale. Ostale su postale lude, mašine sa ciljem, kao 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.
Sredinom mog putovanja, napunila sam 40 godina i počela da mrzim svoje telo, što je zapravo bio napredak jer je barem moje telo dovoljno postojalo da mogu da ga mrzim. Moj stomak, svoj stomak sam mrzela. To je bio dokaz da se nisam stesala, da sam bila stara i da nisam bila fantastična i savršena i da se nisam uklapala u opšte prihvaćene standarde. Moj stomak je bio dokaz da nisam uspela, da me je izneverilo, da se slomilo. Moj život se sveo na otarasivanje viška i postala sam opsednuta time. Zapravo, postalo je toliko ekstremno da sam napisala predstavu o tome. Ali što sam više pričala o tome, sve više je moje telo postajalo objektivizirano i izdeljeno. Postalo je zabava, nova vrsta komoditeta, 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.
Onda sam otišla negde drugde. Van onoga, što sam mislila da znam. Otišla sam u Demokratsku Republiku Kongo. I čula sam priče koje su poklopile sve druge. Čula sam priče koje su mi se uvukle pod kožu. Slušala sam o devojčici koja nije mogla da prestana da piški po sebi jer se previše odraslih vojnika zarivalo u nju. Ženu od osamdeset godina, kojoj su noge bile slomljene i izvučene iz zglobova i uvrnute naviše prema njenoj glavi, jer su je vojnici silovali tako. Ima hiljade ovakvih priča i mnoge od tih žena su imale rupe u svojim telima rupe, fistule, koje su posledice ratova, rupe u materijalu od koga su sačinjene njihove duše. Ove priče su zaposele moje ćelije i nerve 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 te priče su počele da krvare zajedno. Silovanje Zemlje, pljačkanje minerala, destrukcija vagina, ništa više nije bilo odvojeno jedno od drugog, niti od mene. Milicija je silovala šestomesečne bebe, da bi jako udaljene zemlje dobile pristup zlatu i tantalitu za njihove mobilne telefone i kompjutere. Moje telo nije postalo samo mašina sa ciljem, nego se sada osećalo i odgovorno za uništavanje tela drugih žena u svojoj suludoj pustolovini da napravi više mašina da bi održalo sopstvenu brzinu i efikasnost.
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 saznala da imam rak. To je tresnulo kao kad ptica u spustu udari u prozorsko staklo. Odjednom, imala sam telo, telo koje je bilo ubadano, probadano i bušeno, telo koje je bilo rasporeno, telo kome su uklanjali organe, transportovali ih i ponovo raspoređivali i rekonstruisali, telo koje je bilo skenirano, i u koje su zarivane cevčice, telo koje je gorelo od hemikalija. Kancer je srušio zid moje nepovezanosti. Naprasno sam shvatila da je kriza u mome telu bila kriza sveta, i da se neće desiti kasnije, već 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 je moj rak bio rak svuda, kancer okrutnosti, pohlepe, rak koji se prikrade ljudima koji žive u blizini hemijskih fabrika, i koji su uglavnom siromašni, rak u plućima rudara, rak od stresa zbog nedovoljno velikog uspeha, rak potisnute traume, kancer pilića u kavezima i zagađene ribe, rak u ženskim uterusima od silovanja, kancer koji je svuda zbog naše nepažnje.
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, "Novo ja, nov svet", pisac Filip Šepard kaže: "Ako ste odvojeni od svoga tela, takođe ste odvojeni i od tela celog sveta, koje se tada čini da nije isto, da je odvojeno od vas umesto da bude jedinstvo života kojem pripadate." Pre karcinoma, svet je bio nešto drugo. Kao da sam živela u ustajaloj bari i rak je kao dinamitom razrušio pregrade koje su me odvajale od većeg mora. Sada plivam u njemu. Sada legnem na travu i promeškoljim se na njoj i volim blato na mojim nogama. Sada mi je svakodnevni zadatak da posetim jednu žalosnu vrbu pokraj Sene i željna sam zelenih polja i žbunja van Bukava. I kada je pljusak ja vrištim i trčim u krugovma.
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 da je ožiljak po dužini mog torza oznaka zemljotresa. I ja sam tamo sa tri miliona ljudi na ulicama Port-o- Prensa (glavni grad Haitija). I vatra koja je gorela u meni trećeg od šest dana hemoterapije je vatra koja gori u šumama sveta. Znam da je apces koji se stvorio oko moje rane posle operacije, pola kilograma mrtvih ćelija, kontaminirani Meksički zaliv. I u meni su bili pelikani natopljeni naftom i mrtva plutajuća riba. I kateteri koje su zabadali u mene bez odgovarajućih lekova činili su da vrištim kao što Zemlja vrišti od 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.
Tokom moje druge runde hemoterapije, moja majka se veoma razbolela i otišla sam da je posetim. I u ime povezanosti, jedino što je želela pre nego što je umrla je da je dovedemo kući pored njenog voljenog Meksičkog zaliva. Zato smo je doveli kući I molila sam se da nafta ne dođe do njene plaže pre nego što umre. I na sreću, nije. Umrla je mirno na svom omiljenom mestu.
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.
Posle nekoliko nedelja bila sam u Nju Orleansu. I jedna divna, produhovljena prijateljica mi je rekla da želi da mi uradi isceljenje. Bila sam počastvovana. Otišla sam u njenu kuću, bilo je jutro i jutarnje njuorleansko sunce se probijalo kroz zavese. Moja prijateljica je pripremala veliku činiju i ja sam pitala:"Šta je to?" Rekla mi je: "To je za tebe. Cveće ga čini lepim, a med slatkim." A ja sam rekla:"Ali šta je onda voda?" I u ime povezanosti, ona je odgovorila:"O, to je Meksički zaliv." Uzvratila sam sa:"Naravno da jeste." Druge žene su stigle i sele u krug. Mihaela mi je oprala glavu svetom vodom. I pevala je, mislim da je celo njeno telo pevalo. I ostale žene su pevale i molile 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.
Dok se topli Zaliv slivao preko moje gole glave shvatila sam da je sadržao najbolje i najgore u nama. Pohlepu i bezobzirnost koje su dovele do bušotina i eksplozije. Sve laži koje su servirane pre i kasnije. Med koji je činio vodu slatkom, nafta koja je zatrovala. Moja glava je bila bez kose, ali sada mi je bilo udobno bez šešira. Cela sam se topila u Mihaelinom krilu. Suze koje su bile neodvojive od Zaliva, slivale su se niz moje obraze. Konačno sam bila u svome telu. Tuzi je trebalo toliko vremena. Pronalaženje svog mesta i ogromna odgovornost koja dolazi sa povezanošću. Nastavljao se razarajući rat u Kongu i ravnodušnost sveta. Sada su se žene iz Konga dizale na pobunu. Moja majka je odlazila baš u tom trenutku kada sam se ja rađala. Uvidela sam da sam došla tako blizu smrti na isti način na koji Zemlja, naša majka, visi o koncu, na isti način na koji se 75% planete jedva drži, na isti način po kome 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 sa pažnjom i izvorima koje svako zaslužuje. Prijatelji koji se zalažu za Vas i voljena sestra. Mudri lekari i napredna medicina i hirurzi koji su znali šta da rade svojim rukama. Nedovoljno plaćene i zaista ljubazne medicinske sestre. Magični isceljivači i aromatična ulja. Ljudi koji su dolazili sa bajanjem i ritualima. Vizija budućnosti i nešto za šta se vredi boriti, jer znam da borba nije samo moja. Milion molitvi. Hiljade aleluja i milion omova (uzvik u meditaciji). Mnogo besa, ludačkog humora, mnogo pažnje, razjarenosti. Energija, ljubav i radost. Sve te stvari. Sve te stvari. Sve te stvari u vodi, u svetu, u mom telu.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)