herstory – Feminism and Religion

The pre-Christian Roots of Purity Culture by Victoria Alvear

Published by Hypatia Press, *The Cleansing* deconstructs the roots of religious-based misogyny and purity culture through the real story of a Vestal Virgin accused of breaking her vow of chastity. Midwest Book Review called the novel, “Original, exceptional, deftly crafted and a simply riveting read from cover to cover.”

Writing a novel about the persecution of a Vestal Virgin priestess in ancient Rome really brought home for me just how deep the religious roots of misogyny and purity culture go. In my novel, The Cleansing I focused on the true story of a Vestal accused of having sex and being blamed for the massacre of 50,000 men in one battle.

Two hundred years before Christianity, Rome’s religious leaders claimed only a “crime” of that magnitude—of one of their sacred virgins breaking their vows—could have “disgusted” the gods enough to cause them to turn their backs on Rome. The Vestal faced a death sentence—being buried alive—for this so-called “crime.”

Meanwhile, the general who made a massive strategic error in battle, the man responsible for marching tens of thousands of soldiers into a trap, walked away scot-free.

It seemed unbelievable to me that they truly believed a woman’s sexual conduct could have that much influence and power. And yet they did, as evidenced by the fact that the Romans buried alive two dozen Vestal Virgin priestesses (that we know of) during Rome’s existence. When a tragedy occurred—war, famine, pestilence—the head priest of Rome, the pontifex Maximus, and the Collegium of priests often claimed that one or more of their six Vestal priestesses “had” to have had sex to explain away the tragedy.

Visibility Matters: Where are the Women? 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 March 4, 2025. You can see more of their posts here.

Out of forty monuments along the National Mall in Washington, DC, none celebrate women and their contribution to American history.

One of our NWW [Nasty Women Writers] categories is Breaking the Bronze Ceiling where we track the effort to increase the number of monuments dedicated to real women in public spaces.

I’ve made many trips to Washington, DC, trekking the National Mall specifically to visit monuments. Why didn’t I notice women were missing? Am I so conditioned to not seeing women recognized and honored at the highest levels that I don’t even expect it or question their absence?

I felt ignorant and complicit.

It’s 2025 and there is not a single monument to honor women on our National Mall, a place that “draws roughly 36 million visitors a year, more than Yosemite, Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon combined”(Schuessler).

It’s absurd and sadly, speaks volumes.

From the Archives Herstory Profiles: The Queen of Gospel Music, Mahalia Jackson by Anjeanette LeBoeuf

February, the month designated as Black History Month, will see us focus on the voice, the faith, and the heartbeat of one of the greatest singers in all of US History. Many have stated that the voice and songs of Mahalia Jackson can be considered one of the most influential voices of the 20^th Century. She not only became one of the most modern voices to bridge popular music, blues, and religious hymns but she also is intrinsically linked to the Civil Rights Movement. She is one of the first commercially successful Black musicians of the modern era.

Mahalia (1911-1972) was born Mahala in New Orleans, Louisiana. Both sets of her grandparents were born into slavery. Mahala’s childhood was filled with hardship, yet a persistent faith emerged. Mahala was raised in a very charismatic Baptist church, Mount Moriah Baptist Church. It is at church that Mahala would start to sing, find her voice, and start to uplift the souls around her.

Renee Nicole Good—An Acrostic Poem by Marie Cartier

Say Her Name So We Remember Her

R—Remember– that is what I think we need to do
E– Everything that she did, like poetry, like raising kids
N– Not just the horror of what happened… Bam! Bam! Bam!
E— Everything she did …like win the Academy of American Poetry Prize
E— Everything she did …like be a lesbian, be so beloved, be.

***

N- Not just that video on an endless loop- Bam! Bam! Bam! “Fuckin’ bitch.”
I–I want to see her, more of her, before that day, all of her
C- Colors. All of the crayons in the coloring box she represented.
O- -Oh! I wish I had known her. I wish it hadn’t happened. I wish we weren’t here right now in these United States
L– Let me say I wish we were not here.
E– Everything feels dystopian. I forget all the crayons in the coloring box, except gray.

My God Bleeds With Me by Jsabél Bilqís

My god bleeds with me
Her feet right beside mine for morning gratitudes
Soles to soils, we touch skin to skin
She’s vast like me
And I love her

My god grieves when I do
My sorrows meet Hers at the ocean shore
Vial for vial, our tears make our medicine
She can transmute anything, just like me
And I love Her

She courts me
leaves me love notes in the shapes of flower petals
winks at me in amber sunsets
morning serenades and juicy fruits
She loves me! She lifes me!
And I love and I life Her too

Evolution of Cinema and Shift of the Moral Universe by Sabahat Fida

Annie Anderson, Beauty and the Beast, wikimedia commons, public domain

For most of cinematic history, the moral universe of film was anchored in clarity. The hero was dharmic—principled, disciplined, and guided by a moral compass that was neither ambiguous nor negotiable. The villain, by contrast, represented a clear rupture in the ethical order. Actions had consequences; justice was intelligible; human beings possessed agency, responsibility, and accountability. Main stream cinema reflected a world in which right and wrong, virtue and vice, were not merely narrative devices but metaphysical coordinates. One could locate a character on the map of moral compass with precision.

Older Indian cinema often adhered to a strong moral framework in which even the most charismatic or beloved protagonists were ultimately required to pay for their transgressions on screen. Unlike today’s era of morally ambiguous films—where anti-heroes may triumph, consequences are negotiable, and ethical lines are intentionally blurred—classic cinema rarely allowed wrongdoing to go unpunished. Yet this does not mean that earlier films lacked sophistication or ambiguity; rather, they explored moral conflict within a clear ethical horizon, allowing audiences to empathize deeply with flawed characters while still witnessing their inevitable downfall. For example, in Deewaar (1975), Amitabh Bachchan’s Vijay becomes an iconic rebel whom audiences passionately sympathize with, yet he must die in the end to restore moral order. In Parwana (1971), his obsessive, morally dark character meets a tragic ending, demonstrating the same principle. Even beyond Bachchan, iconic villains like Gabbar Singh in Sholay (1975) was originally written to die as a narrative necessity. Through such storytelling, older cinema balanced empathy with accountability, illustrating that complexity and moral clarity once powerfully coexisted.

Holding Our Brokenness by Elizabeth Cunningham

Dear FAR readers, here is a selection from my new collection Holding Our Brokenness, a gathering of poems. I chose these particular poems for their connection to feminism and/or religion. I hope you will enjoy them.

The Old One Speaks

You must be unmade here
inside my grey cloak
inside my cold womb
here where the ice forms
and breaks
at the river’s edge.

What Kali Tells Me

It’s all in the rhythm.
Falseness throws you off beat.
Rhythm renews your strength
with every step. That’s how time
becomes timelessness.

The Echo Makers 25 by Sara Wright

When I first heard the ‘trumpeting’ and ‘brrring’ it was less than an hour before dawn, but one aggregation was already on the wing headed west, away from the fields. Because their direction led away from the fields, I feared we would not see the Sandhills at all. It was All Saints Day, a time to give thanks to those creatures and people who have helped us along the way. (Sandhills have been been a beacon of Light in my own life). A bloody red sky turned deep rose as the sun shattered the charcoal outline of distant mountains, turning them carmen red. The wind was fierce as I walked up and down the sides of the open agricultural fields listening intently. Gunshots rang out and I wondered where these might be coming from. In Maine it is illegal to shoot migrating cranes. The sunrise was spectacular. Clouds spun themselves out of ruby, slate, and violet hues. Indescribable.

Although snow buntings, red winged blackbirds and two harriers were scrying the skies around the fields after dawn I only had eyes for sandhill sightings!

The Second Skin: Lipstick, Lies and Lead part 1 by Sabahat Fida

A woman’s body has become a site of commodification to such extreme that even her most basic necessities are not spared. Products meant for hygiene or comfort ; razors, deodorants, tampons, shampoos are packaged, scented, and coloured in ways that signal femininity, pushing them into a hyper-aesthetic zone of the departmental store. This creates a glaring economic contradiction: men’s products, often identical in function, are sold cheaper, while women pay a premium simply for their gender. But the exploitation is not merely financial. By demanding that her essentials adhere to socially approved standards of beauty, the market sends an unambiguous message: a woman’s needs, her very body, are only legitimate when they are commodified, beautified, and consumed in accordance with society’s expectations. The Pink Tax is thus not just a matter of inflated prices, it is a subtle enforcement of control, conditioning women to invest continuously in an ideal that is neither natural nor negotiable.

But this exploitation extends far beyond commercialized markets and seeps into the routines of everyday life. A tailor may charge different rates for the same shirt depending on the gender it is intended for, while a simple haircut at a salon can cost women far more than men, despite the identical service. Men’s consumption remains largely practical, functional, and unembellished, whereas women are expected to pay for aesthetic compliance at every turn. This raises the question: is the female market driven merely by trends or gullibility, or is it a reflection of deeper societal pressures — an unspoken demand that a woman’s body and appearance must conform to rigid standards of femininity in order to be socially acceptable? Is the answer in the very language and design of advertising Taglines like “You’re worth it” or “Strong is beautiful” which carry a psychological imperative, subtly instructing women to compare, conform, and continually invest in their appearance as a measure of worth ? These subliminal marketing strategies are deeply rooted in social comparison theory, objectification and fear appeal/protection motivation theories.

Three Poems by Harriet Ann Ellenberger

I Resolve To Speak

There’s a fascist in the White House —
a malevolent clown and front man
for a cabal of the hard right.
Their takeover of the US government
proceeds rapidly, a stunning succession
of defeats for democracy.

The nightmares of fascism
are taking shape in waking reality.
Now is the time, I tell myself,
to speak up, speak out,
name the perpetrators,
name their games.

The bully in the White House
has been called a rapist,
and fascism is patriarchy on steroids,
waging unremitting war on nature,
people of color, and women.