women’s journeys – Page 9 – Feminism and Religion

Seeds of Life by Sara Wright

I have been involved with plants since I was a toddler. My first word was ‘fower’ for bright yellow buttercups, a nickname I was given by my grandfather that stuck.

I guess it’s no surprise that I started out with gardening as a three-year-old under my grandmother’s tutelage. Her large vegetable plot fed us for most of the year. I seeded my first yellow summer squash into rich moist earth and watched with wonder as the seed emerged with two emerald ears.

In college when students were decorating their rooms with drapes and bedspreads, I bought a pepper plant to brighten my cement surroundings and soon had a windowsill full of plants.

As a young adult I grew many house plants and often talked to them, noting that we seemed to have an uncanny personal relationship, a childhood reality that I had been educated out of. I also gardened with herbs outside my back door, because I loved to cook and needed tasty condiments. Soon I moved on to planting a full – fledged vegetable plot. I canned what I could like my grandmother still longing for the bountiful flower gardens of my dreams. I come from a lineage of female flower gardeners and farmers that stretched back three generations (that I know of) but as a young single mother who worked and one who was frozen from loss, I didn’t make the time.

The Awakened Woman: Remembering and Reigniting Our Sacred Dreams by Woman Writer Dr. Tererai Trent by Maria 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 January 14, 2020. You can see more of their posts here.

Breaking the Bronze Ceiling – Statues of Real Women in Public Spaces

I cannot imagine a woman more deserving than Dr. Tererai Trent, her likeness one of ten life-size bronze statues unveiled in New York City on Women’s Equality Day on August 26, 2019.

Australian global public artists and activists, Gillie and Marc Schattner, revealed the statues of these inspirational women on 6th Avenue (Avenue of the Americas) that glorious summer day! Their organization, Statues for Equality, is on a mission to achieve gender balance in public statues worldwide. In NYC prior to their unveiling, only 3% of the statues depicted females; this climbed to 10% on August 26.

I Really Like My Dirty Feet by Caryn MacGrandle

Last night, I had a dream where a nicely dressed woman leaned towards me and said, ‘Come with me, I’ll show you how to do it.’

“I’ll show you how to get those feet clean,” and she looked down at my dirty feet in disgust.

And I knew what ‘it’ she was referring to. She had a nice car and a big beautiful home and a well coiffed outfit. She was one of my children’s friend’s parents, successful the way that mainstream society defines it.

And my small self said, ‘sure, okay’.

But then my Large self said ‘wait a minute. Stop. I like my dirty feet.’

They’re part of me, you see.

Sing Anyway by Dr. Jamie Marich

I often find myself sitting in conservative Catholic spaces. My brother is a Roman Catholic priest in the Dominican order and I remain in support of his vocation. Every time, before a Mass officially starts, I’m overcome with a sense of: “You belong here…and you don’t.”

The part of me that has always felt at home in a Catholic setting is that love of the ritual and ceremony, the smell of the incense, the familiarity of the chants and songs. It was a Catholic priest, the late Fr. Ciaran O’Donnell, who taught me how to play the guitar and got me started with the healing practice of songwriting. When I sink into these associations, I feel connected to my Croatian ancestors and our Catholic faith. And there’s the other part of me—the queer feminist and an advocate for other queer and transgender people to live the fullest, most open expressions of themselves in all spaces of life, especially faith-based spaces. As a survivor of several forms of sexual assault and as a trauma specialist who has guided countless other survivors in their healing process over the years, I can’t sit in a Catholic Church and not feel uneasy about the legacy of abuse and silencing survivors within the church. Between my queer identity and dedication to supporting survivors, I feel that I don’t belong.

Dear Mr. Vance, Love, A Childless Cat Lady

I am a writer, one who sometimes touches on personal issues. But this is the first time I elaborate on why I don’t have children, no doubt, provoked by your “childless cat lady” jibe.

I am childless or childfree; to me, it is a matter of semantics. I have two cats whom I consider my children. In many ways, I am like most Americans; I love my job, I love my students, I love my colleagues.

And I love my cats.

Fight, Fight, Fight? by Caryn MacGrandle

I have two divorces under my belt. I’m not proud. I made bad choices. I didn’t have the support network nor the mental ability to thrive in the situations. But I had gumption. And I didn’t stay.

So here I am. 54. And starting over.

It can be rather terrifying as motherhood and family has always been my focus.

After my recent second divorce, part of my stability plan was Land. The Blue Ridge mountains in North Carolina called me. The Appalachians. I spent a year looking. I had a list: unrestricted land, at least five acres, a water feature.
I had several adventures on my own looking, but I will never forget the day I found it. I was with my son James, and I knew it right away.

Ten acres. A third of it a bog along a creek. Away from it all, but not ‘too away’ as it has a road running through it that leads to a partly developed mountain subdivision.

Home.

I can breathe.

She in Archetypes, Images, Energy… Emerging by Dale Allen

If it weren’t for my mother, I wouldn’t have gone to church on Saturday evening at 5pm. It was a special trip made by me, my daughter and my 89-year-old mother who is visiting here in Connecticut from Ohio. We are met at Holy Name of Jesus Church in Stamford, CT by one of my aunts, some cousins, one of my sisters, a brother-in-law, nieces and nephews – part of our big family.

Holy Name of Jesus Church is in walking distance from the house where my mother grew up: the house where her Polish-immigrant parents raised 8 children. My mother and her siblings attended Holy Name of Jesus Catholic School next to the church from 1^st through 9^th grade. The school is still there and now houses a daycare and learning center.

The Connection between Matilda Joslyn Gage’s Woman, Church and State and L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by Mark I. West

My introduction to Matilda Joslyn Gage (1826-1898) goes back to my long-standing interest in her son-in-law, L. Frank Baum. I regularly teach Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in my children’s literature courses, and I always point out the book’s feminist qualities. I mention, for example, that Dorothy Gale, the central character in the novel, is one of the first female characters in American literature to go on a bona fide quest. When I first started teaching this book, I wondered what caused Baum, a male writing in the late nineteenth century, to write such a feminist book. One day, while preparing for class, I came across a reference to Gage. This reference stated that Gage was a leading suffragette during the second half of the nineteenth century and that she lived with Baum and his family in Chicago when Baum was launching his career as a children’s author. After reading more about Baum’s life, I realized that Gage played a major role in shaping his nontraditional views on gender roles. However, I was still not sure what role she played in the development of women’s rights.

Sailing For The Darkness by Mary Gelfand

As I write this, it is August and very much high summer. This time of year always reminds me of my old life in New Orleans, before I moved to Maine. David, my first husband, and I were sailors. I never planned on becoming a sailor, but once I mastered the basic skills I found I quite enjoyed it. Furthermore it became an unexpected source of spiritual insight. I’m inspired to share a piece of that here.

One spring over 25 years ago, David and I and a group of sailing buddies made our usual summer passage in the Gulf of Mexico, from New Orleans, Louisiana to Pensacola, Florida. By car this trip was 200 miles. By sail it took two to three days. Around midnight, as we were entering the last leg of this journey, I took the wheel. We were exiting Mobile Bay, heading east, and this should have been a fairly simple passage. There was plenty of depth, adequate wind, the boat was sitting in the water well, and I had Barney, a dear and trusted friend, as my navigator. I’d been at the wheel for fifteen minutes or so when I noticed the many lights we were approaching and asked Barney what was going on.

A Healing Shrine by Joyce Zonana

From October 5, 2023. Joyce posted the blogpost which she titled: Nineteen months and Counting: Experiencing the Web of Life

On February 28, 2022, I unknowingly drove into a deep snowbank, shortly after finding myself in a strangely unfamiliar landscape. Suspecting a TIA, my primary care physician urged me to go to an emergency room for a possible CAT scan. There, a lesion in my right parietal lobe was quickly discovered.