The image is burned into our knowing: the brave wield swords and slay dragons, they swoop into fiery buildings, they gallop into dark nights and stand stoically in the face of fear. Brave people do hard things.
I, however, have always felt more at home crouched small in the tight and cramped underbelly of someone else’s shell of bravery. The proper home for my thinner blood and skin has consistently been hidden below the vast casing of another’s courage. Valiant and stouthearted I am not.
And then I hear stories of real women around the globe whose very waking is an act of bravery; women whose lives are daily marked by decisions between lesser evils and unrequited hope. I am schooled in the prevalence of human trafficking and the pains of hunger and I am confronted with my ready wealth and comfort.
It is then that I feel the weight of my brave costume most acutely and the truth of my position is revealed...
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Today I am joining all of the lovelies here at SheLoves where you can continue reading my exploration of bravery.
Won't you join me?
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