Presently, I find myself in a position where I need to assert myself rather strongly in order to receive the professional respect I deserve, as well as resources and opportunities that were agreed upon at the outset of a professional undertaking. I am being necessarily vague. The details are not important, but the subsequent result is: I need to fight for myself.
This is not a battle of human rights; I have not been oppressed or abused (although there may be some questionable gender and age dynamics at play). I am a successful, professional woman, and I am not being afforded the respect, honesty, or ethical treatment I deserve by my professional superiors. And so I will fight for it.
I offer this fight to my Mother. I offer my righteous indignation to Her. I offer the straightness of my spine when I walk into a superior’s office; I offer the friendly smile I flash at those who I know have tried to stab me in the back. I offer the carefully constructed cadence of my speech and every contact I make in trying to make this right. I wear Her colors, Her sacred jewelry, the cosmetics and perfumes I have offered to Her in the past.
You do not mess with a child of Sekhmet the Queen.