My daughter Joy, in so many ways, is like my mother Vera–competent, feisty, determined, smart, no-nonsense, generous, gracious, and loving. Many of her mannerisms mimic Vera’s as well, yet Joy barely knew my mother. She died soon after Joy’s fifth birthday. Unlike both my mother and me, though, Joy came into the world wired with a feminist vision. Comfortable in her own skin from the “get-go,” she did not shrink from asserting her right (quietly–she’s an introvert) to participate in whatever caught her fancy “out there.” She always had a strong sense of autonomy and resists, along with other feminists, when men (or to be more accurate–the patriarchal social system that informs us) attempt to shape public policy based on (primarily) men’s experiences and political agendas.
It took some time for me to understand the structured (and toxic) nature of gender inequality within our society, and even more time to learn to “speak that truth to power.” During Joy’s formative years, I tried my best to instill into her what I had been taught–women were created primarily to be “help-meets” for their husbands and by extension, men. Joy never bought into that “truth.” I could tell by the way she lived. For example, Joy liked to cook. When she prepared a dish, she balked if (when) family members just helped themselves to the fruits of her labor. She insisted they first ask to partake of the food she prepared. She would not be taken for granted. Continue reading “My Tribute to Joy and Vera by Esther Nelson”
My grandmother took me to church often when I was a child. It was not my favorite activity. The village church, surrounded by the graveyard, was cold and gloomy, and the priest demanded too much undue reverence, I thought. As a consequence, I used to spend whole days devising plans of sudden sickness and disappearance acts before church time.
From our very beginnings, women have danced with time. Our bodies’ moon cycles have always been a human calendar. As the first agriculturists, we partnered with the seasons to feed our families and communities. When we served as midwives and carers for the dead, we ushered our species into and out of their Earthly lives.
Sophia was the first 
My sister once said about me, “One thing you have to understand about Elise—she takes the ritual of whole thing very seriously.” My sister was right and her words helped me see this quality about myself. What ritual was she talking about me taking so seriously? Happy hour on Fridays.
Feminism and Religion 