Feminism and Religion

Grief, Grace, and the Eco-Feminist Legacy of Katherine Paterson’s Bridge to Terabithia, part 1 by Elanur Williams

Bridge to Terabithia, First Edition (1977), by Katherine Paterson. Illustrated by Donna Diamond.

There are stories that define our childhoods, and then there are the rare narratives that teach us how to survive the contradictions of adulthood. When my family relocated from Istanbul to a Philadelphia suburb during my elementary school years, I remember feeling suspended between two universes. My efforts to map suburbia onto the vibrant textures of the home I had left behind corresponded with my encounter with Katherine Paterson’s classic novel, Bridge to Terabithia, and its sibling text, Jacob Have I Loved. I remember being completely mesmerized by Leslie Burke’s house, specifically the room she and her parents painted gold. To a child who felt uprooted and out of place, that golden room was a sanctuary of pure possibility. The book was also one of the first I’d encountered that dared to tackle the complexities of grief.

Published in 1977, Bridge to Terabithia reflects the burgeoning spirit of Second-Wave Feminism, a movement that championed the personal as political and sought to dismantle the rigid gender roles of the post-war era. Leslie’s rebellion, however, carries a bittersweet resonance for the modern reader; while her struggle fits the Second-Wave pursuit of liberation, her eventual “fridging” reflects the persistent literary habit of the era to treat female autonomy as a temporary, tragic catalyst for the male hero’s journey.

The Color of Mourning is Greige by Madison Jackson

Life is full of color, and nothing is ever black and white. Mourning teaches us that no color remains alone and that every shade has its season under heaven. People often associate grief with black clothing and dreary weather, but grief isn’t simply black and white. It is greige. Not because grief is dull, but because grief is transitional. Greige is not the absence of color, but the space in which we learn to see color differently. Like mourning itself, we often dismiss neutral colors because they are not eye-catching and feel indecisive. Instead, we gravitate towards vibrant colors and complementary color combinations. Yet greige has become a staple in design because it softens its surrounding colors. Perhaps this is why greige can be associated with the season of mourning, as it does not ask sorrow to replace joy, or memory to replace hope. Instead, it simply creates space for them to exist until another season under heaven arrives.

Mourning is a Season of the Divine by Madison Jackson

If mourning truly had an expiration date, then wouldn’t our memories have one too? We often rush the uncomfortable moments in our lives because we assume pain prevents us from living. In doing so, we begin to treat happiness as the emotional state we are meant to preserve. Yet happiness, like grief, has its own season. It comes and goes, but our memories always stay. In fact, if we truly lived in a permanent state of one emotion then a loss would lose its significance, and our memories would not hold so much power over our emotions.

Judaism understands this paradox well. Rather than treating mourning as something to overcome, Judaism understands mourning as a practice for which the living honor the dead. As Tisha B’Av approaches, the Jewish calendar invites participants into collective grief, by refraining from life’s pleasures, including intimacy and celebration. Then six days later, Tu B’Av marks a season of love and renewal. The transition from Tisha B’Av to Tu B’Av reflects the impermanence of human emotion, as grief and joy come and go, but our memories stay. This vision of life is expressed in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. There is “a time for being born and a time for dying” (Ecclesiastes 3:2), as well as “a time to weep and a time to laugh” Ecclesiastes 3:4. While Lamentations is traditionally read on Tisha B’Av, Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 complements a new perspective on mourning, as mourning is a process that occurs throughout the year, not just on particular days.

She Changes Everything She Touches: A Reflection on Love and Loss, part 1 by Sara Wright

I reflect upon this year as the sun star rises in a northeastern sky. ‘He’ has reached the end of his northeastern journey.

Wave after wave – oceans of grief break over me at dawn – tempered by the same cycle during which I have been graced by a most powerful love in the form of a young canine companion. Love and Loss are such intimate companions.

‘She changes everything she touches, changes…’ during cycles of grief S/he changes nothing at all.

As the solstice bears down on us under a hard blue dome so does the fire. It is hard to believe that three weeks ago temperatures hovered in the 40’s. I resist the stifling heat of June coupled with days of torrential rain, cold, and wind that are presently drowning a field of lilies, wild lupine and roses. Fire and Ice. On good days there is the increased noise flow of man-made machines. Slow down please, I plead. Let me listen to the wood thrush, experience this space in between without bouncing between extremes.

I am feeling resentful, cross over the loss of spring and the relentless rains that destroy every flower just as it begins to bloom. I must honor the child who is heartbroken or I will make things worse. Wildflowers bring her the greatest joy and most have been under perpetual siege by inclement weather. Many plants were not pollinated. Too cold for bees.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Has the Phaistos Disk Been Cracked?

This was originally posted on November 10, 2014

Recent headlines in the international press announced that the enigmatic language of the ancient Cretan “Phaistos Disk” has been translated—in part—by the Welch-Cretan scholar Gareth Owens. Owens states that the Phaistos Disk records an ancient hymn to a Mother Goddess. More specifically he claims that one side is dedicated to a Pregnant Goddess and the other to a Birth-Giving Goddess.

All of this is very exciting, but is he right?

I have been leading Goddess Pilgrimages to Crete for that past twenty years, in the course of which I have developed an intimate and scholarly knowledge of the religion and culture of ancient Crete. Participants on my tours sent me the news reports about the Phaistos Disk, assuming I would be thrilled to have confirmation of my understanding that the ancient Cretans worshipped the Goddess as the Source of Life, or as Marija Gimbutas says, as the powers of birth, death, and regeneration in all of life.

Reading the news reports, I noted that archaeologist-translator of the disk, Gareth Owens, identified the Goddess of ancient Crete as a “Mother Goddess” and more specifically as a Pregnant Goddess and a Birth Goddess . This raised a red flag for me. The most well-known Goddesses of ancient Crete, the bare-breasted Snake Goddesses, are neither pregnant nor giving birth. Other Goddesses pour liquids from the breasts, but again are not visibly pregnant or giving birth.

Toni Cade Bambara: How to Care for Oneself While Healing The All (American Woman Writer 1939-1995), part 2 by Theresa Dintino

Part 1 was posted yesterday

The mud mothers, ancestors, began to make themselves visible to her when she was a girl, in the movie theater, on one of the walls in a cave like indentation, “with enormous teeth painting themselves with long hair brushes, painting pictures on the walls of the cave”( SE 254), at church, and in her attic. “In the attic they came in the mirror once. Ten or more women with mud hair, storing yams in gourds and pebbles in cracked calabash. And tucking babies in hairy hides. They came like a Polaroid. Stepping out of the mouth of the cave, they tried to climb out of the speckled glass, talk to her, tell her what must be done all over again, all over again, all over again. But she hung an old velvet drape over the mirror and smothered them. They were not going to run her off her own place, Not the attic “(SE 255). In church and at the theater she avoided looking at them.

For Velma and for Bambara, it is the spiritual roots of her ancestors and ancestry from Africa that come calling, the mud mothers. In Velma’s town there are mentors and guides and Aunties and godmothers, all levels of support and care available in claiming her gifts that Velma has left behind, rejected. Yet, when the book ends she will return to this, she has agreed to take up the mantle in order to be well.

For African Americans in particular, Bambara believes reconnecting with the ancestors—the ancestors that their ancestors were taken from— is part of the healing wanting to happen. That this was left out of the civil rights movement. That honoring ancestors is part of this lineage and that the ancestors are there and waiting. That slavery often disrupted this connection but it is there, the ancestors are there, for the reconnection if one is willing.

Toni Cade Bambara: How to Care for Oneself While Healing The All (American Woman Writer 1939-1995), part 1 by Theresa Dintino

Moderator’s Note: This piece is in co-operation with The Nasty Women Writers Project, a site dedicated to highlighting and amplifying the voices and visions of powerful women. The site was founded by sisters Theresa and Maria Dintino. To quote Theresa, “by doing this work we are expanding our own writer’s web for nourishment and support.” This was originally posted on their site on August 11th, 2020. You can see more of their posts here.

While reading adrienne maree brown’s Pleasure Activism for #NastyWomenWriters, I was stopped in my tracks by the praise coming forward in that book for black feminist, writer, activist, film maker and mentor Toni Cade Bambara (1939-1995).

brown writes:

“Toni Cade Bambara, author of The Salt Eaters, the one to tell us writing was a tool for the revolution, that our task was to make revolution irresistible. Bambara is a main stream in the lineage of pleasure activism, not just because of what she put on the page and into words, but also because of the ways she wove community, the way she supported other writers and organizers, the way she engaged in healing work” (45).

In the chapter “The Sweetness of Salt,” author and activist Alexis Pauline Gumbs, archivist and scholar of Bambara’s work, writes about five women who have been instrumental in her life and work: “scholar Farah Jasmine Griffin, filmmaker and activist Aishah Shahidah Simmons, artist and abolitionist Kai Lumumba Barrow, healer and organizer Cara Page, and editor and intellectual activist Cheryll Y. Greene”(46), who were all personally influenced, mentored, “sistered” and “mothered” by Bambara. It was these women’s recounting of their experiences with Bambara that caused me to go find her for myself.

Patriarchy Unbound by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Some new terms in our language have been after people. Both the terms sadism and masochism were so named according to etymologyonline.

Here is what the site says about sadism: “love of cruelty,” especially as evidence of a subconscious lust that the cruelty satisfies, 1888, from French sadisme, from the name of Count Donatien A.F. de Sade (1740-1815). Not a marquis, though usually now called one, he was notorious for the cruel sexual practices described in his novels.”

And here is what the site says about masochism: “The word masochism originates from the name of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, an Austrian novelist best known for his 1869 novel Venus in Furs, which explored themes of submissive sexuality and domination.”

I have a new term to add that I would like to add to our vocabulary: Robertism to be named after John Roberts. Here is my definition: love of cruelty, not just cruelty by itself but by spreading cruel acts as widely and far as possible while giving them the authority of legality. Robertism encourages the most base and ugly parts of human behavior, brings them to the surface to be expressed in actions that are given permission through legal cover.

The Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Patriarchy As An Integral System of Male Dominance Created at the Intersection of the Control of Women, Private Property, and War, Part 3

Part 2 was posted yesterday. You can read it here, or the original in the link below.

Patriarchy is a system of male dominance, rooted in the ethos of war which legitimates violence, sanctified by religious symbols, in which men dominate women through the control of female sexuality, with the intent of passing property to male heirs, and in which men who are heroes of war are told to kill men, and are permitted to rape women, to seize land and treasures, to exploit resources, and to own or otherwise dominate conquered people.

As the discussion of patriarchy* I began last week and the week before shows, patriarchy is not simply the domination of women by men. Patriarchy is an integral system in which men’s control of women’s sexuality, private property, and war (including violence, conquest, rape, and slavery) each play a part. These different elements are so intertwined that it is impossible to separate one as the cause of the others. Patriarchy is an integral system of interlocking oppressions, enforced through violence, and legitimated by religions.

The model of patriarchy I have proposed argues that the control of female sexuality is fundamental to the patriarchal system. This explains why there is so much controversy about the “simple matter” of access to birth control and abortion in the US today. It also explains why so much vicious anger is directed at single mothers by politicians and commentators. Any woman who dares to control her own sexuality is questioning the foundations of the patriarchal system.

Sign our Statement to Halt the Death Sentence of 25-Year-Old Political Prisoner Arghavan Fallahi by WNCRI

Statement Calling for Immediate Action to Halt the Death Sentence of 25-Year-Old Political Prisoner Arghavan Fallahi

We express our profound concern over the death sentence imposed on Arghavan Fallahi, a 25-year-old political prisoner in Iran.

Ms. Fallahi was arrested on 25 January 2025 and detained in Ward 241 of Evin Prison. She spent five months in solitary confinement, during which she was subjected to interrogation as well as severe physical and psychological torture.

The death sentence was issued by Branch 15 of the Tehran Revolutionary Court, presided over by Judge Abolqasem Salavati, and was communicated to her on 1 July 2026.

Ms. Fallahi, a supporter of the People’s Mojahedin Organization of Iran (PMOI/MEK), was previously arrested in November 2022 along with her father, Nasrollah Fallahi, who was a political prisoner in the 1980s, and was held in prison for a short period. Her father remains in Evin Prison.

We further call upon the United Nations, Member States, and international human rights organizations to take immediate action to overturn the death sentence of Arghavan Fallahi and other political prisoners sentenced to death.

The international community must pressure the Iranian regime to grant the Special Rapporteur and the International Fact-Finding Mission access to Iranian prisons and allow them to meet with political prisoners.

The case of Arghavan Fallahi once again highlights the urgent need for coordinated and effective action by the international community to prevent an irreparable catastrophe. The 1988 massacre of political prisoners must not be allowed to happen again.

The international community witnessed the extraordinary courage of Iranian women during the recent protests, when they stood at the forefront of a movement demanding dignity, freedom, and fundamental rights. This courage was not spontaneous or isolated; it was rooted in a long history of resistance by Iranian women against repression and authoritarian rule. Thousands of PMOI/MEK women members and women activists have been executed by the mullahs’ regime over the past 45 years. The struggle of women such as Arghavan Fallahi reflects this broader legacy of resilience and determination.

Today, as a young Iranian woman faces the possibility of execution following a deeply concerning judicial process, the world must once again stand in solidarity with the women and people of Iran who continue to defend their fundamental rights.