They took our drums -spoken word

They took our drums
and called it civilisation.

Told us to be quiet,
to speak when spoken to,
to lower our voices,
to stop making a fuss.

They took our drums
and replaced them with
clocks and beeping phones
and metrics that measure
everything except
the beating of our hearts.

They took our drums
because they knew:
a woman with a drum
cannot be tamed.

We used to drum to women into labour,
our rhythms matching contractions,
our beats saying
you are not alone
your body knows

We used to drum the dying home,
steady beats that said
it’s safe to let go
we are here
you are held.

We used to drum for the moon,
for the harvest,
for the grief that had no words,
for the joy that was too big
to fit inside our chests

The drum was our medicine.
Our technology.
Our prayer.

Then they took them.

Banned them first,
when they wanted control.
They called our drumming witchcraft.
Burned the women who wouldn’t stop.

They removed rhythm from birth
and replaced it with
sterile rooms and
beeping machines and
women flat on their backs
told to push
on someone else’s schedule.

Made us forget
that our hands
once knew how to call forth
the soul

And here’s what they knew
that we forgot:

Drumming drops you
out of your thinking mind
into your body,
into that place where
you cannot be sold to
or marketed at
or convinced
that you are not enough.

Drumming connects you to
rage (call it hysteria, lock her up)
intuition (call it irrational, dismiss her)
power (call it threatening, silence her)
boundaries (call it difficult, punish her).

Drumming makes you
uncontrollable

And when women drum together?

When our hearts synchronise
and our brains entrain
and we remember
bone-deep remember
that we are not alone?

That’s when the systems shake.

Because isolated women
compete.
compare.
comply.

But women in sync?
Women whose heartbeats match?
Women who remember
what they are capable of
when they move together?

Those women
cannot be controlled.

So they told you:
you’re not musical
you can’t keep a beat
you need training
you need permission
you need to be
quieter
smaller
less.

They told you drumming is:
New age nonsense
Hippy bullshit
Something only men do
  

They told you this
because your drum
is dangerous.

But here’s what I know:

Your hands remember.

Even if your mind forgot,
even if you think you have no rhythm,
even if you’ve never touched a drum

your hands remember.

Your grandmother’s hands.
Your great-great-great-grandmother’s hands.
The hands of every woman
who came before you,
drumming in the dark,
drumming in the light,
drumming the world
into being.

So pick up your drum.

Pick it up and know
that every beat says:
I will not be silenced.

Every rhythm claims:
I take up space.

Every pulse declares:
I am here,
I am connected,
I am powerful,
and I am done
asking for permission.

They took our drums
thinking they could keep us quiet.

But the drum lives
in our blood,
in our heart,
in the pulse
that moves through
every woman
who has ever lived.

They can take the drum
from our hands.

But they cannot take
the drum
from our bones.

So drum, sister.

Drum like your grandmothers are listening

Drum like your grand-daughters are watching

Drum like the revolution depends on it

Drum until you remember
who you were
before they taught you
to be small.

Drum until the ground
shakes
with the sound
of women
remembering.

They took our drums.
We’re taking them back.