Silvia Young's Blog

The Ten% are Waiting for your Reply, One Year One WeekFriday, November 17, 2017

There’s 51 weeks until the next election. I spent the last 53 weeks trying to get heard by my elected officials in California. This is extremely disconcerting as a constituent. Every single day I reach out. Every single day there’s zero progress. Am I foolish for giving you my vote?

I continue to share all the hard work patient advocates have dedicated their disabled lives to in bringing the social injustice of endometriosis to light so that you, our elected officials, can ensure our rights are no longer violated. Following are well-researched, updated, patient-driven resources to bring you up-to-speed. My first step is asking for your time, your acknowledgement and your grace.

www.UniteEndo.org Patient Stories, Media Relations

www.CaseyBerna.com ACOG Petition

www.EndoStats.com Research, WHO, NCDVoices

www.EndoWhat.com Documentary

www.EndoWarriors.com Education & Support Group

After a year I’d be remiss if I didn’t realize our relationship is one-sided. How else can you explain sending me endless fundraising emails and posts, but not replying to mine? Please do not turn a blind eye, not when girls and women need you to fight for them.

Last week I sent Senator Kamala Harris my first Open Letter. It received more than 10k views in just a few days and keeps growing. But I didn’t hear from your office. The same offices I’ve called many times leaving my name and number.

This week I sent emails via your website, plus tagged and responded on social media daily, and wrote another Open Letter. Countless hours this week again. It’s now end-of-day Friday. Another week of silence.

I don’t plan to give up. Each week I’ll add another elected official that “supports women’s rights” until we find a champion to include us in the conversation. Someone that believes in us so we can believe in them.

Thank you for reading,

The Ten%

An Open Letter to Senators Kamala Harris and Dianne Feinstein was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

When I Was TenPhoto uncredited. Viral on social media. Seeking photographer or store for credit (and purchase!)

Wayne was a boy that was my friend. As ten-year-olds it’s important to note the difference. He wasn’t my boyfriend. Sure he was cute, smart, athletic, funny, popular, but did I mention I was ten? My only interest was training for the Royal Ballet but he was always a friendly distraction. We’d been friends since we were five. I would listen to his soccer aspirations, he was being recruited to secondary schools and was full of promise.

I had never had a boyfriend. Had never felt the butterflies of a crush, or found any appeal in boys other than friends. There’s a sweet memory I have when Wayne brought a book with puppy pictures to school. He showed me and said he thought I’d like it. I did. I also remember him telling me he used mouthwash that morning and every morning.

Another memory was from Valentine’s Day. Wayne brought a card to my home. I was so thankful for his friendship but a card seemed over the top and I felt embarrassed with the attention. I just brushed it off. I still knew nothing of crushes.

The next memory isn’t my memory. Decades later my friend, my former ten-year-old bestie, stumbled upon Pandora’s Box.

“Guess who I saw on the 2B?” she offered nostalgically, as I hadn’t lived in London for ages but was very familiar with our means of transport and bus route.

“Wayne!” she finished.

“Oh! How is he? Tell him I said ‘hi’ next time” I said sincerely.

That wasn’t the reaction she anticipated. I could feel it. Even though we were on the phone from London to San Francisco, I could feel an intense energy from her, and then collapse me. I came to hearing her on the other side, “Silvy! Silvy!” — she knew she had inadvertently triggered a deeply repressed memory. Over the next half hour she tearfully shared with me my own history. Apparently it was quite the scandal, and something that still ignited raw emotion as she shared the details.

When I was ten I walked six long, dodgy blocks twice daily. My school was by the Sweet Shop, but past two boys secondary schools that earned their reputations and have since been closed down. Usually I would try and catch up with my friends so we could walk home together, a whole crew lived in the Counsel Flats behind my house in Tulse Hill. But many days I had afterschool practice, and those days I walked alone. The area was rough in the 70s. I was street wise at a young age, getting jumped was always a likely scenario so I was hyper vigilant about stranger danger.

But that day I wasn’t hyper vigilant. Wayne “coincidently” was leaving at the same time and offered to walk me home. He didn’t live far from me, just down the road, a Council Flat in Brixton.

Wayne was more playful than usual that day, circling around me as we easily talked and laughed walking home. We were on the second block, about 50 yards from the school corner. No one in sight.

He asked me to be his girlfriend. I laughed from embarrassment. He got mad, instantly attacking me, I now remember him groping me and repeatedly kicking between my legs.

Then I went blank.

As my parents filled in next during a teary phone call as I struggled to put the pieces together, they said I came into the house a bloody, beaten mess. I have no recollection of this or how I got home.

My parents made me go to school the next day marching me straight into the Head Master’s office. They wanted to parade the evidence of my black and blue face, fat lip, and ripped uniform. Shortly after arriving the school bell rang and I was told to go to class, it was up the stairs and to the left. I hid amongst the coats and backpacks until I couldn’t any longer, and took my place at the table. I sat at an eight-person table, all facing each other. No one said a word.

My dad’s rage could be heard very clearly throughout the school halls, even with Mr. Richard’s door closed.

Wayne was called downstairs. The whole school heard the crack of the dreaded cane and Wayne’s ten-year-old cries.

Everyone knew it was because of me.

The part of the story my mind chose to remember was “it was because of me” — I had carried this guilt that Wayne was hurt because of me. What had I done? All those years my mind chose to remember his pain over my own.

Now I know my “because of me” is my first #metoo.

#FemTruth

#MeToo was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Ask a Woman

I don’t have to watch the weather report to know a storm is coming. Can’t you feel the dampness? Oh, that’s too bad.

You see, women don’t need validation, we already know. We have other measurement tools. Night sweats, achy joints, heightened sensory sensitivity. Believe us, there’s a storm coming. Take a jacket.

Apparently old wives tales weren’t superstitions afterall, just men trying to dismiss what they can’t understand. The female body and mind aren’t mysterious bad. They are mysterious good. Like a fruit-infused well of wisdom and truth. Believe me, you’ll want a jacket today.

#FemTruth

The Original Meteorologist was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Five Signs You Met a Ghost

Photo Credit: Silvia Young #FemTruth

Ghosting. We’ve all done it. That passive-aggressive way of non-verbally communicating that we’re “really not that into you” — but I commit to no longer participate in this BS.

At first no one wants to believe they’re stuck in this dysfunctional cycle and being on the receiving end is particularly humbling. Been there, done that. Suffered a fool more times than I’d like to admit.

Is someone you trust stringing you along, emotionally, professionally, and/or romantically?

When days become weeks, and promises shared on good faith are broken, it’s time for me to step back and really look at the balance of power. In order to keep up the facade of a relationship, how much of myself am I willing to sacrifice? The rotating door of excuses, valid or not, isn’t my story. Why am I choosing to write myself in?

Instead of holding on to this false narrative, I now choose to see that moment when letting go becomes more about prioritizing myself than the relationship? It gets easier to let go and close that chapter. And guess what? Even more empowering to reclaim your time.

GhostBusting Tips

How much time is spent talking about substance versus excuses? Get real. Is your time together spent growing roots or still surface? How this person chooses to reveal themselves is a huge window. See what’s there, not what you want to see.Is the balance of time spent nurturing the relationship equal? It doesn’t have to be 50/50, but go look at your emails, texts, posts. Are you always initiating communication and waiting for a response? No one is that busy. Your time and energy is as important. Now you look desperate. You are not desperate.You know when you’re a priority. If it’s not reciprocated, it’s not real. Trust your instinct.Everyone’s time is valuable. Period. “I’m sorry to bother you again…” Please. Stop. Making. Excuses. No one needs to be chased. If they don’t see your value, stop trying to make them.The feeling of potential now feels like a burden. Cut the ties. Be free. Because the only one holding on is you.

I ain’t afraid of no ghosts #FemTruth

GhostBusting, The Self-Love Trend was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Because SHE followed ME on Twitter!

“OMG!!! Guess who’s following me on Twitter!”

Our night was winding down with the glow of our phones and easy conversation. It had been an amazing day for democrats, and as political junkies the win felt surreal as we processed this new, hopeful, political landscape. And now I just couldn’t contain my jolt of adrenaline.

“Representative JoCasta Zamarripa, 8th district in the Wisconsin State Assembly, is following me!”

You know that feeling when someone you respect gives you a nod. Tingles. Fear. Excitement. Worry. Humility. Acceptance.

I digress, here are my top five reasons why she is a rock star.

First Latina elected to the Wisconsin Legislature, giving a voice for women and the Latino community.A long-time supporter of the LGBT community. In July 2012, prior to re-election, she announced via the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel that she is bisexual. Transparency is so refreshing!Prior to public service she worked for Planned Planned as an outreach coordinator.She in on the 2017 Health Committee for the Wisconsin State Assembly.Quote “This is what happens when we speak truth to power”

You know what this means? It means that yesterday, through all the noise, someone in the position to affect change heard. Not the whole story, but a door or window cracked open.

The possibility of uncovering a champion to help our ten% fight the social injustice of endometriosis seems a little more hopeful today. Because she followed me on Twitter.

Last Night I went to Bed with a Smile on my Face, was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Adulting is Perspective

It’s true. I am transitioning from a full-time, volunteer, advocate to charging a speaking fee and branding merchandize .

FemTruth Women's short sleeve t-shirt

It is a topic I’ve mulled over for a long time. But I live in intention and my intention is good. Really good. I’m human though, and how I’m perceived effects me, deeply. I wish it didn’t. But it does. Putting my intention into the universe will hopefully release the burden of stress that’s been holding me back from being me.

If money wasn’t as issue, this would be a moot point. I wish I didn’t have to worry about money, but I live in the real world and I’m already at a disadvantage on the medical expenses spectrum. My new agent is a true believer though, so I’m jumping in ready to bust out of my comfort zone and meet other women motivated to affect change.

Ready for Women’s March Bay Area, FemTruth Socks www.SilviaYoung.com FemTruth Shop

My awareness and social-media platforms within the endometriosis community (for my endosisters) are many and free, but now it’s time to spread my wings to see how far I can take this message of social injustice. The big picture is so much bigger than me.

Speaking at conferences and sharing ‘My FemTruth’ is my next step. It’s my brand. My purpose. After decades of misery from endometriosis, I found me.

It’s taken everything I have to be ready for this. Literally blood, sweat and tears. Finally I’m ready to advocate out loud, using my voice and creativity, and most rewardingly, the opportunity to contribute financially to my family.

I wish to rise. I hope you’ll rise with me.

Sly xo

Finding My Purpose was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The Ten%.

Advocacy Poster Courtesy of Sara Gilbert

I know you must be very busy. With the mobilizing, marketing, polling…voting, watching talking heads and everything else besides the issue I need to discuss. A life-stealing epidemic and someone you know is fighting it.

But should I just wait?

What’s another minute, hour, day, month, year? What’s another generation disabled due to negligence? When will it be time for us, the ten%. You saw our posters at the rallies, ‘We are the granddaughters of the witches you weren’t able to burn’ — in modern times we are the mothers of the gaslit and suicides because no one is listening.

The next suicide, is that the time to raise awareness? No, I’ve tried that. The timing is off. Offensive.

The timing is always off, for us, the invisible ten%. Should I just wait over here for my turn?

When is a good day to raise awareness for the females living in daily pain draining their finances in vain.

Should I just wait until there is a lull in natural disasters, domestic terrorism, Russian colluding and sexual perpetrators?

We have a #metoo story. Not the same, but you cannot measure trauma, abuse, grief, silencing? Let us join the conversation and share our shame.

When is the right time?

Because this disease, endometriosis, it needs your attention, to raise the consciousness of the oldest disease because we are not part of the female-truth discussion. Who will step up and represent us, who wants our vote?

The ten%. When is it our time?

Election Day, Tuesday, November 7, 2017 was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Everyday, Walk In Her Shoes.

What if it were you that started missing school in Junior High, while behind your back friends whispered “fake”

What if it were you that blossomed into an hourglass at puberty, while behind your back friends whispered “slut”

What if it were you sitting in a doctor’s office being denied the respect of your doctor’s sworn oath, while behind your back the medical staff whispered “hypochondriac”

What if it were you that had to give up a career when your body became unreliable, while others whispered “lazy”

What if it were you denied help from your ER, while they blatantly accused you of drug seeking

What if it were you that found your voice to advocate about the social injustice that stole your life, while others whispered “attention seeker”

What if it were you that grieved everyday through the heartbreaking journey of infertility, while others whispered “relax, it’ll happen”

What if it were you that tried to bring the sunshine despite the storm, while others whispered hate.

What if it were you that had endometriosis? What if it were you?

What if it Were You? was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

When Ten% of Female Constituents Are SilencedMay 6, 2017 CNN

Nov 5, 2017

As a California native and women’s health advocate, my vote is my voice. I’ve voted Democrat since I can remember, immensely proud to be a part of a party that prioritizes equal rights.

But mine aren’t equal. And it’s not equal for at least 1in10 females, regardless of race, religion or orientation.

I have a pre-existing condition called endometriosis.

Endometriosis is a body-wide disease of inflammation, mutating like cancer, flaring without warning of intensity or duration. The pain is worse than childbirth or a heart attack, depending on its location, and is historically dismissed by medical experts as hysteria.

After the immense struggle to fight the “hysteria” diagnosis, the next step perpetuates medical myths around palliative and castration bandaids, both proven inappropriate, ineffective and with irreversible damage.

There is no cure. It is hell on earth and a never-ending battle to be a part of the women’s health conversation. Which we still are not.

I have first-hand knowledge of this abuse. Being gaslit by the medical community for more than half my life, and due to this negligence, my fertility, career, and a significant amount of my hard-earned finances stolen and replaced with medical debt. The healthcare I need for a disease first recognized during Socrates, isn’t covered by my insurance, recognized by the medical community or validated by our elected officials.

The only time I’ve seen endometriosis addressed in a political format was when ‘13 Men’ listed it as an area to cut in healthcare reform. Cut?!

Now equipped with years of research, I was ready to affect change. I reached out to you, my Senator. The Senator I voted for, follow, like, retweet, participate.

Here’s what happened:

I sent two letters, both received standard responses.

I tweeted daily for months.

I sent emails to your staff requesting a meeting, while I was bounced around from one contact to another. For months.

I finally voiced my frustration via email about a lack of response and I received a call. Elated, I continued to share all my data: research from www.endostats.com, the documentary www.endowhat.com, my media kit www.UniteEndo.org, a petition to the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (http://www.caseyberna.com/blog/2017/7/31/petition-to-acog-to-improve-standards-of-care-for-endometriosis-patients), and our recent work with the World Health Organization and Non-Communicable Disease Alliance, where I was commended for my commitment to amplify critical information to more than 25k in a patient-driven awareness campaign, while bedridden.

I was told by your office that endometriosis would be put on the agenda, discussed, and I’d be hearing back soon. I waited anxiously, hopeful, optimistic, determined to believe that if I went through the proper channels with evidence and documentation, that I would be heard by your office, you. My champion. Surely you would be outraged if you only knew of this social injustice.

Silence.

Finally I resorted to daily follow-up calls.

Still silence.

Your platform is championing equal rights, women’s health and single-payer.

But I, along with my 176 million endosisters continue to live on the fringe of society because no matter what we do, we’re still silenced.

I invited your office to an awareness event. Surely someone on your team could spare some time to acknowledge a disease that ruins lives. To publicly stand in support of 1in10 females.

Still silence.

After months and months of constant outreach I am speaking out with this Open Letter to stop the silence and save fertility, ability and dignity.

Senator, my goal was also the White House. Specifically, the communications team. Even after the education, deliberate career choices, and fighting for other’s social injustice, my dream died.

It died because I wasn’t heard by those that took an oath to serve and heal, but didn’t. My contribution to society died and I became invisible.

I won’t be silenced or invisible any longer.

I’m seeking to vote for the person or party that is willing to stand up for me. I want to vote for the politician that finally takes a stand against this systemic abuse. Is that you?

Senator Kamala Harris, I hope you’re listening.

Dear God, I hope someone is listening.

Please hear us. 176 million. The invisible ten%.

#endometriosis #socialinjustice

An Open Letter to Senator Kamala Harris was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s an Inside Job

Dedicated to Savannah Rose. Photo Credit: www.saltwatervibes.com

I don’t have a daughter. I wish I did, maybe she’d be just like you, beautiful. The world is filled with beautiful girls. Like all of us, I was a beautiful girl once, although I didn’t believe that at the time as I let insecurity cloud my mind. In my wellness journey of female empowerment, my mind swirls with which words of wisdom I would share with you, beautiful girl, because #FemTruth sets you free to be you.

Beauty is an inside job, and only you have the key.

Soar with your passion, this passion will sustain you. Don’t listen to haters, they don’t know what you’re capable of, don’t revenge, just soar in optimism, perseverance and love.Be kind to everyone, but very selective about your inner circle. You are still very impressionable and each person will make an impact on your journey. Let people go that don’t want to stay, gracefully. Life is long.Make yourself a priority. Fear of missing out is at it’s worse if you miss the opportunity to connect with your core. Each lesson provides your personal boundaries. Listen to what grows organically within you, and don’t be afraid of blossoming.You will have to move mountains, not a prince charming. Fighting society and your adversity will be part of your life forever, stop running away. You aren’t unique in this area of adversity, what makes you unique is how you choose to rise above it. Trust your instinct, embrace your sensitivity, and stay woke.Nothing good happens after midnight, ever. Stay in control of your body and mind. For this is all you can control and is the foundation of your life. You don’t need anyone else’s approval to make decisions in your life and about your body.Do not compete with your sisterhood. Resist this societal pressure. Try to see the beauty and respect the differences. Everyone has their own mountain, don’t judge. Choose compassion.Trust your intuition and surround yourself with those that believe in you 100%. The sooner you connect with your core the sooner you will be living a happy life filled with gratitude. Perspective is everything.

With love,

A Beautiful Woman

Hey Beautiful was originally published in FemTruth on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.