Feminism and Religion

Invisible Connections: The Hidden Web of Women Writers, part 2 by Theresa C. Dintino

You can read part 1 here.

The erasure of this web is to make women feel alone and disconnected. Maybe it would make them want to give up.

Angela Davis and Toni Morrison

This may sound extreme but imagine this scenario: You are a young woman starting out and you are told that the path you wish to follow is one of pain, loneliness and lacks any kind of support or network with other women that came before you. There are plenty of men but you are left out of that network.

Why would you want to do it? Because in your soul of souls you are a writer, or an artist or a scientist . . . So you decide to do it anyway. But instead of expecting support and connection you have already decided, based on what you have been told, that there won’t be any and so you start to not expect it.

Invisible Connections: The Hidden Web of Women Writers, part 1 by Theresa C. Dintino

Moderator’s Note: We are pleased to announce that we are forming a 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 Nov. 16, 2021. You can see more of their posts here.

created by Data Visualization Specialist Mia S.Szarvas as part of a larger project of Nasty Women Writers about the Web of Women Writers

In the years that my sister Maria and I have been writing for Nasty Women Writers, one of the things that has become increasingly clear is how connected women writers are to one another. Every time I explore the life of a woman writer for Nasty Women Writers, I learn of other women writers she is connected to, inspired and supported by. Some of these connections are through time, meaning one woman writer reads and interacts with the body of work of a woman writer whose lifetime preceded hers chronologically, others are alive at the same time and they interact in person or through letter writing.

This Saturday March for Love, March for Healing, March for Strength by Caryn MacGrandle

Marches and Rallies will be held all over the United States this Saturday January 20^th to mark the upcoming 51^st anniversary of Roe vs. Wade. WomensMarch.Com

But what is happening in our world right now is Bigger than Roe.

It is not about Life, it is about Control.

I voted for Trump in 2016. There. I said it. My entire family was Republican. My husband at the time was Republican. I spent many years on an Airforce base where I saw firsthand that things the government run are full of red tape and inefficiency.

Patriarchy as Primer of Cruelty by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

This was a hard post to write. When I write about my personal trauma, it is not only healing for me but adds to the canon of stories of other women that help all of us navigate trauma. That makes it easier. When writing about the trauma of women in a whole culture, I feel a sense of helplessness, especially here in the United States. We are all experiencing a group trauma and it is digging in deep.

January 5, 2024, will live in the Patriarchal Hall of Infamy. On this date the Supremes agreed to allow the rapist, misogynist, trying-to-be-dictator former President an opportunity to have his rights heard. But this same date, the Supremes also told we women that our lives are insignificant. No that’s not right, less than insignificant, a mere distraction to what they consider to be more important issues. They allowed an Idaho abortion law to go into effect that doesn’t allow an abortion even in the case of a medical emergency when a pregnant woman in life-threatening distress has been rushed to the emergency room. The split screen exhibits patriarchy for what it is. I want to use the word, “culmination” but that means the height. I don’t think we’ve reached a culmination because there seems no end to the cruelty that patriarchy seeks to inflict.

The Sky Dancers by Sara Wright

December is a poignant month for many people, including me. Although I find the darkness comforting, winter stillness a gift, I do not celebrate the season as others do.

I begin December by bringing in the dawn each morning (if it’s clear) by standing outdoors in the cold watching Sirius, the dog star fade…Some mornings the sky turns rose, tangerine, or gold as clouds slide over the horizon or billow up like cottony balls of fluff. The air is fresh, fragrant, and clean. I listen for the first birds, the female cardinal’s chirp, the chickadees, and doves have yet to appear – these daily ‘morning mysteries’ are spontaneous and acted out in gratitude without thought.

This month is a time of remembrance … I think of people I loved, some I did not, those I lost…

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Should Our Children and Grandchildren Live Better Than Us? And Whatever Happened to Our Dreams?

This was originally posted on November 4, 2011

Last Sunday on Meet the Press Tom Brokaw spoke about the breakdown of what he felt had been a common consensus about American life. He said that Americans are questioning the American dream which tells us that “our children and grandchildren will live better than us.” He found it disturbing that people now feel their children will not be better off than they were. The poor no longer see a way out of poverty and the middle class fear that their children will be unemployed for long periods in their lives, burdened with college debt, and unable to afford mortgages and college educations for their children. I have heard this idea expressed many times in the recent economic crisis, including by progressive journalist Adrianna Huffington.

Bloody Waters by Ivy Helman

(Author’s note: I live in Prague, Czech Republic and teach at Charles University. Try as I might, I could not express in prose my thoughts about the violence in the world and particularly the violence here, in Prague, on the 21st of December, especially given the fact that I was a block away from what took place. So, I have written a poem instead.)

I swim through
the slimy waters of patriarchal violence
Difficult to express in words
the anxieties, the fear, the sadness
I feel as I take another stroke

towards

the parshah Bo (Exodus 10:1-13:6),
a divinely wrought plague of locusts
devouring all in their path.

Breathe,
stroke.

Darkness lasting three long days
blood smeared on doorposts and lintels
the deaths of first-borns, humans and animals alike,
the proclamation of a New Year and its festivities
to remind us of such nonsensical violence.

Breathe.
There is blood in the water.
Stroke.

Kairos Time by Beth Bartlett

I love the time between the Winter Solstice and New Year’s – a time of suspended animation, a reprieve from the demands of daily life, a respite from the woes of the world, from needing to pay attention to the time of day, days of the week, and tasks that need to be accomplished. A whole week with nothing scheduled on the calendar. Simply presence. It is a liminal time on the threshold between the old year and the new – whether measured by the turning of the planet from dark to light on the Solstice or of the Gregorian calendar year – a time when many of us pause and reflect on the year past and our hopes for the year to come. It is a moment of what the Greeks called Kairos time, as opposed to Chronos time, by which we measure most of our lives — in seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years.

In the years I spent in academia, my life was governed by Chronos time that often forced me to live in the future rather than the present. Course scheduling and book orders needed to happen far in advance. Course syllabi planned students’ readings and assignments for the next several months ahead. Learning was to occur in specific blocks of time, which always struck me as such a bizarre way to teach and learn, when we’d have to break off discussion and deep learning simply because the hour was up.

Public Goddess Gatherings by Caryn MacGrandle

I swat at her like an annoying fly. ‘Stop it. I’m good. I’m very happy. Go away.’

I took a part time security gig on the weekends to bring in some extra cash, and they sent me out to direct traffic at a holiday outdoor market here. 150 booths of incredible, local, organic, home-made, natural items. Right up my alley.

The festival started at noon. And the steady stream of cars started. By 12:45pm, the entire parking lot was filled, several football fields long: a Dave and Busters, a Wahlburgers and a Trader Joe’s sharing the same area. All their spaces filled too.

RELIGIOUS POLITICS by Esther Nelson

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am a fan of Jim Rigby, a Presbyterian minister, serving a parish in Austin, Texas. I follow Jim on social media and read his posts regularly. I find his take on modern, American Christianity succinct, on-point, and very similar to my own experience growing up with evangelical, fundamentalist missionary parents.

Jim describes his initiation into religion in the following paragraph:

“As a child I learned an a-political version of Christianity. I…was offended if a preacher brought up social issues in a sermon. Religion for me meant a personal relationship with God so I could sing “Jesus loves the little children” but not feel any need to confront the possibility that my nation might be dropping napalm on them. I was taught to pray for world peace but to remain silent about my nation’s polices that made war inevitable. I could talk about Moses telling Pharaoh to set his people free, but was not permitted to break any chains in my own day.”