Bonnie
“Being a woman means your relationship to self transcends time and space. It acknowledges a history of women before you and generations to come. It connects you to women across the world, to mothers and to friends. It is a more selfless experience because of this. ”
In her young life, Bonnie has endured the unimaginable. She used to be a ballerina, it was part of who she was. Then that identity was taken from her. Soon afterwards, her physical health began deteriorating - she diagnosed with with a chronic illness called POTS. After all of this, Bonnie tragically lost her sister Ruby to cancer, who was also her best friend. Despite everything, Bonnie has persevered. She is a fighter with undeniable resilience. When she was turned away from ballet, she reinvested her energy, and went back to university. Now she works in parliament, in a team determined to enact change. She is passionate about fighting for the future of the planet, and also for her sister, who was dedicated advocate herself. Bonnie is a survivor. This is her story.
P: Please introduce yourself.
B: Kia ora! My name is Bonnie (or Bon if we are like that). I work for two really cool Ministers at Parliament Buildings in Aotearoa’s capital city Wellington. I grew up a dancer and upon reflection, this might have influenced my fascination with politics - by this I mean, dance and the expression of movement is inherently political, and has everything to do with communicating ideas and revealing truths. Whatever the motivation, I studied politics for far too long and now find myself in the halls of power, attempting to apply the things I learnt in a very different environment.
Other things to know about me: I have a one-eyed dog, a love of musicals and a passion for climate action.
P: Describe or define yourself in your own words.
B: I am having a visceral reaction describing myself. I think, because I have had so many iterations of how I might be defined (skip to an experience that made me stronger for context), I am hesitant to define myself in something as permanent as words on this blog, in case it looks like a lie or a failure to be this person in years to come.
I struggle with that a bit. Even physically, I have changed a lot more than once, and so my features can be difficult to pin down and describe. I know I am not alone in this, and that many people, particularly young women, feel this way too.
I suppose if I had to be defined, I would like to be so by other people’s interactions with me - the way I treat them; if they feel listened to, acknowledged, encouraged, energised, important. I think other people’s perception of you is a different kind of truth, and holds you accountable. Of course those perceptions can be completely flawed and ignorant, particularly if they don’t know you well and your motivations for your actions/reactions. But how would a close friend describe me? I’d hope it would be as determined, thoughtful, engaging and as a defender. I imagine ‘stubborn’ might be tossed in there too. At the moment, I’d describe myself like that too.
P: What is your favourite thing about yourself:
B: In year 6, I went on a school camp and scored myself a certificate for “perseverance in archery”. I remember this distinctly, as at the time I had no idea what perseverance meant. I have since learned (thankfully) and now believe it to be one of my best qualities, and my favourite thing about myself. I have been dealt a lot of shit cards, but I have some deep need to keep going and to try to make the best of every opportunity. I realise I am truly fortunate to have a lot of the opportunities I have had, which women before me have not had, which women next to me can’t have - I don’t want to waste anything.
P: Tell us a story, what is an experience that has defined you or made you stronger?
B: Being told no.
I had dedicated my whole life to be a ballerina, only to be told ‘no’ without reason. I had worked so hard for this and sacrificed a lot of my life for many years, and so I lost my entire identity when I was delivered that rejection. I didn’t necessarily react in the best way at the time - who knows, I could have tried again - but I chose the “fuck you” route/the “let’s do something else then” route.
I do not regret that reaction at all. It taught me that I could lose everything and start again. So I went to university… and then in my second year of study, I fell very ill. I would get so lightheaded and dizzy, my heart would pound, I felt so sick and suffered an indescribable fatigue. It got to the point that I couldn’t walk 10 minutes down the road and spent most of my days horizontal. I lost everything again - I had no control of my body and dropped out of university. Later that year, I was diagnosed with a chronic illness called POTS. Not many people know about this illness, and there is not a ‘cure’ per say, which I think might be directly related to the fact it tends to affect young women.
The year after my onset of symptoms, my younger sister, Ruby, was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer called osteosarcoma. She was 14 years old at the time. I was 19 years old. My family lost a lot as we moved up to Auckland for her to undergo aggressive chemotherapy treatment at Starship Children’s Hospital. I had no idea at the time that the move would feel so permanent. Chemotherapy was nothing like the films - not a quick drip then home for a rest. Ruby would undergo treatment that would leave her in the hospital weeks on end. It was truly, truly awful. Our family spent a year in a different city, calling Ronald McDonald House ‘home’. I lost all sense of “normal life”, my perspective was completely altered, and life changed again. When she died another six months after this, I lost my favourite person.
These are all very different instances of loss, and each has helped me cope with the next. Knowing nothing is certain in life is terrifying, but knowing I can and have got through extremely difficult circumstances, gives me an odd sense of security and comfort. Today, I am really happy and excited by my career which connects me to my sister (who was a similarly staunch activist). I manage my symptoms much better, though I still grapple with losing the ability to do certain things, and the confidence in my own health which has been forever impacted. Nonetheless, I can be creative, courageous and I can start again.
P: What is one piece of advice you’d give your younger self?
B: It is not the end of the world/life is too short.
P: What does being a woman mean to you?
B: Being a woman means your relationship to self transcends time and space. It acknowledges a history of women before you and generations to come. It connects you to women across the world, to mothers and to friends. It is a more selfless experience because of this.
P: Who is the one woman who inspires you? What would you say to her right now if she was with you?
B: My sister!!! I would thank her for being a boss, so cool and changing so many young women’s lives.
