Deborah Batterman

I recently chanced upon a delightful discovery online that strikes me as much a cultural gem as it is a metaphor. In Tonga, writes Ruth Elayne Kongaika, girls learn the art of juggling as early as five years of age, a skill that grows with them. Girls and women sing as they juggle; it is not something taught to boys.

The essay about The Amazing Juggling Women of Tonga came my way via She Writes, an online community of which I’m a part.  Living in a culture where juggling is almost synonymous with being a woman – especially a mother – I take heart in seeing some literal, mythological roots in a metaphor.  At the same time, living in a culture that tends to equate what we do with what we earn sometimes takes its toll on the creative impulse, if not the drive that propels it.  

I write for the simple reason that I could not imagine living any other way. Over the years I’ve managed to build a body of fiction and essays, never at the expense of paid work (editing, proofreading, writing workshops) and family responsibilities.  In a word, I am (always) writing . . .