Category: Women’s Voices

Lessons Mothers Might Teach Their Daughters by Elisabeth Schilling

There might be lots of lessons to consider. These lessons might have holes, for I’m not a wise sage, and I’m not really even a mother. As I am a couple of years from 40, I think about what lessons I would teach my daughter if I had one, lessons to honor her physicality, lessons to create space for her soul. What do you think of these lessons? Would I be a bad mother?

  1. Be self-sufficient, and work hard and do it early.

I think there is much to say about a woman making her own money so that she can be in relationships that honor her tendencies and desires and contribute in those relationships financially. I’m not sure why it is, but I still feel that we are in a time where most men are more given the idea they should be self-sufficient and work hard and early to do it and many women, although perhaps a hint of this, would not have this as the core of who they are. A woman should have her own money so that she can be free.

  1. Find a spirituality and a community that allows you to be confident in your internal wisdom and body and support learning about life skills.

Continue reading “Lessons Mothers Might Teach Their Daughters by Elisabeth Schilling”

Outtadeway-O: A Found Goddess of Public Transportation (well, you asked for Her last month) by Barbara Ardinger

Tall, hearty. sometimes pushy, and usually very loud, Outtadeway-O is easily able to propagate and multiply Herself so that we can find Her in crowded airport terminals, at bus and subway stops, and just about anywhere people are traveling from or to. She’s in charge of trains, planes, and taxi-cabs. She’s the One who, when we’re in a hurry to get somewhere on time, shouts, “Please, oh, please get out of the way!” Pilots, engineers, station masters, ticket agents, and ÜberAlles drivers all hear Her. You better bet they get out of Her way.

Although there are apocryphal reports that Outtadeway-O was present when Hannibal crossed the Alps (who do you think was in charge of those elephants?) and in the Roman Colosseum (She supercharged some of the chariots, horses, too), She’s most familiar as the gal in the New York subway system who kindly tells you which side of the tracks to stand on so you get on the train going in the right direction. Whether you’re lost in La Guardia, O’Hare, Hartsfield, or LAX (and in the smaller airports, too), She’s the gal in the uniform who explains how to use those dratted ticket machines on the curb and gives you a tidy map that shows where the gates are and how to find them without tripping over the people sleeping on the floor because their flights were delayed or canceled. She’s also the helpful agent who finds food for those people when they wake up and points them toward the bathrooms. Continue reading “Outtadeway-O: A Found Goddess of Public Transportation (well, you asked for Her last month) by Barbara Ardinger”

Islam is my Louvre – Part II by Valentina Khan

I was once asked “why do I stay Muslim”? That was the question prompt, and it begged an answer…Reason #2: I believe Islam has vagueness in the Quran (I answered Reason 1 and 2 yesterday…)

What do I mean by all this vagueness?

First of all, Judaism and Christianity-based characters have made appearances in Islam by way of shared stories and prominent shared figures: Adam, Abraham, Isaac, Ishmael, Lot, Aron, Moses, Job, Jonas, Noah, Jesus, Mary and so on. Growing up Muslim, these prominent religious figures across the Abrahamic spectrum were names that were mentioned time and time again as part of the religious history and teachings. So I feel a sense of relief, that as a Muslim, we are not sailing alone in the sea of faith with no shared history with any other faith, but we are on the same island (so to speak) with our Jewish and Christian brothers and sisters. Continue reading “Islam is my Louvre – Part II by Valentina Khan”

Islam is my Louvre by Valentina Khan

I was once asked “why do I stay Muslim”? That was the question prompt, and it begged an answer. A deep, well thought out, articulate, and concise answer. Shamefully, at that time in my life, I was stumped. I was speechless a long while, because I couldn’t think fast or clear enough to answer with sincerity. At that time, whatever I wanted to say, just sounded like the “schtick” — for example “oh, yes I stay Muslim because Islam stands for peace, and I’m a peaceful person so this is my biggest reason..(next day – terrorist attack by “Muslims” totally negating my “why”)… and other similarly situated examples as such. So, I knew my why had to be more layered, more significant and pragmatic, yet exciting.

It’s been a few years since, and I have thoughtfully mulled this question over and over in my head. From my social context, as devout as both sides of my family are to the faith, I personally, grew up as a “SoCal” girl. For me this means, I have many non-Muslim friends, and I have influences from all spectrums varying from interfaith efforts to intellectual atheists. Growing up and still today, I have conversations with women, especially, that go beyond following any type of faith tradition. Many of friends within my circles have used their faith as a roadmap to a “higher frequency”. Tuning into the world, into humanity, eliminating draconian mindsets, and living today trying to be in touch with all of it, rather than just a section of “it.” Continue reading “Islam is my Louvre by Valentina Khan”

Her Love is the Love of God by Natalie Weaver

I used to hate Mother’s Day.  I have written about this before, so I won’t belabor the point.  Suffice it to say, I used to believe that Mother’s Day was the one of the biggest lies of all.  It was a day of demonstrated appreciation that seemed to say to me something like, “This card and dinner at Red Lobster is our way of not having to carry our part for the other 364 days each year.  You don’t have to clean up (pause) today, sucka!”  I know I’m getting better and better in my own skin, though, because this year I am not dreading Mother’s Day.  I’m not calling it Mule’s Day.  I’m actually sort of excited about it.

I haven’t swallowed a magic elixir that makes things easier or tidier.  I’m not taking anything for my mood.  My house is messier than ever as I prepare to move homes, and I am working harder than I ever have before.  My kids’ needs are greater than they were when they were babies, and I am doing things I have never done before, such as pleading for financial aid from the school and seeking county assistance for the medical needs of one of my children.  I’m exhausted, but I’m making decisions and signing deeds and taking out loans all by myself.  I get calls from people seeking payment on stuff I never thought possible, such as the daily phone call from the finance department at the cemetery.  My one hundred/month apparently isn’t sufficient.  But, I buried my dad with dignity, and I’m keeping my kids fed, clothed, and educated.  I pass kidney stones almost monthly, and my teaching is laborious, but I feel on fire with the zeal of God.  Truly, I’m starting to feel happy again, and my happiness is rooted in my gratitude.  I think the shittiness of recent years has finely tuned in me an appreciation of decency, and my eyes are opening once more to the radical joy of mere being when being is experienced as gratitude. Continue reading “Her Love is the Love of God by Natalie Weaver”

Talking about Privilege with Nuance by Elise M. Edwards

elise-edwardsYesterday evening, I led a seminar at a local church as part of their series on “Unpacking Privilege.” Once before, I’d been invited to this church, Lake Shore Baptist Church, to speak about intersectional feminism with one of my colleagues, so I expected them to be open-minded and welcoming.  They were.  Although the attendees were overwhelmingly white and older than me, they were attentive and engaged.  We had an enriching time together diving into topics like male privilege, white privilege, and class privilege with Peggy McIntosh’s 1989 essay “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” as a resource.  (If you are unfamiliar with it, I recommend taking a few minutes to read it and reflect.)

In the essay, McIntosh writes about becoming critical of male privilege and men’s obliviousness to it through her work in Women’s Studies, which then led her to see her own race privilege (as a white woman) and her obliviousness to it.  The essay does not offer a precise definition of white privilege, but the entire piece is a reflection about it.  She explains:

“I have come to see white privilege as an invisible package of unearned assets which I can count on cashing in each day, but about which I was ‘meant’ to remain oblivious. White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools and blank checks.”

Continue reading “Talking about Privilege with Nuance by Elise M. Edwards”

Our Lady is on Fire by Sara Wright

I entered the Silent Tomb;
the Mosque felt
devoid of Presence.
 We wandered through
a myriad of glorious arched rooms,
ornately carved woodwork –
soft carpeted floors.
Removing our shoes
we spoke softly
in deference to
Something ineffable?
Each tiled courtyard,
Mute, yet
starred in
cobalt blue.
Opaque light streamed
through precisely cut
geometric shapes,
domed ceilings
cracked the heavenly stream
into patterned shards.
Outside,
unattended,
High mud walls
kept Creation
at bay.
Fruit trees
twisted by bitter west winds
ragged junipers
sagging in sorrow
rendered invisible
by those who choose
not to see…
I wept for the casually discarded
living breathing
Beings –
Pulsing with Light.
Beyond white sand walls
the stark white capped
Mountains cried out in torment
“Here we are!”
“Sangre de Christos” –
it is our body, our blood
that has been shed
not just his.
Stretching north –
Ridged, ribbed serpents
split the continent in two,
valley gorges meandered far below
arroyos flooded Rio Grande
and all the colors of
the rainbow streamed
out of mud and stone. Continue reading “Our Lady is on Fire by Sara Wright”

The Highly-Effective, Never-Fail, Magical Parking Space Word by Barbara Ardinger

“In the beginning was the Word.” Yes, we’ve all read that. Although I’m not sure precisely what that Word was—does anybody know?—I’m pretty sure that Word started the process of creation. It was an active Word. A powerful Word. A Word that got things done.

I modestly propose another creative, active, powerful Word. ZZZAAAZZZ. It actively and powerfully creates parking spaces for us. Although I have always believed this Word just somehow came to me, my son has recently said that he once heard it from one of his high school buddies. I dunno. I’ve been using the Magical Parking Space Word for maybe thirty years. I’ve been writing for the Llewellyn Publications annuals since about 2004 and have put the Magical Parking Space Word (with its own spell) in the last three Llewellyn Spell-a-Day Almanacs. I get positive responses from readers all over the U.S. The Word is spreading. Continue reading “The Highly-Effective, Never-Fail, Magical Parking Space Word by Barbara Ardinger”

Ritual Dances for Greek Easter by Laura Shannon

In a previous post on FAR I wrote about some of the Easter customs in Greece in which pre-Christian and Christian practices intertwine, and I would like to pick up this thread again here.

Today is ‘Bright Saturday’, the Saturday after Greek Easter (one week after Western Easter in 2019). This week is known as ‘Bright Week’, and is the joyful culmination of the Orthodox calendar cycle which began with carnival back in February. During Bright Week, people come together in celebration and feasting. Fasting is not permitted, a welcome relief after the seven weeks of Lent.

While Carnival and Twelfth Night customs are mainly performed by men, spring rituals and dances are almost exclusively in the hands of the women. Many of the dance songs are sung a cappella by the women themselves, typically in unison, emphasising group unity and solidarity. Continue reading “Ritual Dances for Greek Easter by Laura Shannon”

Vaginas Matter by Trelawney Grenfell-Muir

I’ll never forget the first time I heard Eve Ensler say those famed opening words, “I’m worried about vaginas.” As she went on to speak about the way our culture talks about and treats vaginas with terrible violence and shame, that phrase vibrated through me like the chime of a deep, deep bell… she said it. She really said it. She said it ALL.

I was working hard in intensive trauma therapy at the time, working on all the trauma stored in my body from the times various men had molested, raped, and abused me, and let me tell you – it was only through years of mind-body therapy focused on the trauma stored in my vagina that I was eventually, finally able to have a happy and fulfilling sexual life. Years of EMDR therapy, countless occasions in which I missed work, huddled under my bedcovers trembling and weeping due to the depth of agony uncovered by the therapy, screaming so hard I vomited, repeating to myself every single night for hours, “I, Trelawney, am safe. I Trelawney can relax and go to sleep. You, Trelawney, are safe. You, Trelawney, can relax and go to sleep. She, Trelawney, is safe. She, Trelawney, can relax and go to sleep.”

All because I was born… with a vagina. Continue reading “Vaginas Matter by Trelawney Grenfell-Muir”