herstory – Page 2 – Feminism and Religion

Tripping Together by Esther Nelson

I recently returned home from a two-week visit to Buenos Aires, Argentina—a trip I took with my eldest son, Mike, who throughout the years has expressed an interest in my birthplace. He has an avid interest in history, geography, and economics. It was like putting puzzle pieces together for him—attempting to understand the various aspects of Argentina in light of my experience. What was it like living in a “foreign” country? Did I have friends? Who were they? What were they like? How did we, the family (parents, 4 children—the 5^th was born much later), get along?

My parents were American, Protestant missionaries. They met at Moody Bible Institute, Chicago, Illinois, in the early 1940s. My mother was a Registered Nurse. My father had been recently discharged from the U.S. Navy. Both of them were eager to do the “Lord’s work.” For them, that meant serving the Lord as missionaries. They felt “called” to go to Argentina and preach the gospel mainly to Jews, God’s “chosen people.”

In Argentina, my parents struggled financially. Their mantra (especially my mother’s) was “God will provide.” That translated in my mind to “don’t ask for anything we cannot afford.” My parents’ income depended on God placing our needs on the hearts of people (mainly in the U.S.) who would then be moved to support our mission—the New Testament Missionary Union. Funds were divided among all the missionaries in the organization equitably, meaning the more children you had, the greater percentage of the available funds you received. It was never enough. My maternal grandmother, Jessie, often supplemented our income. I don’t remember ever going hungry, but I do recall appearing slovenly and disheveled—always an embarrassment. Except for my school uniform, the only clothes I wore were hand-me-downs or the ones Jessie sent from the U.S.

Mountain Mother by Sara Wright

When I picked berries in the mountain field that first summer, I could sense wave after wave of feeling rising up – seeping into my feet from the ground below. The sun spread blue heat over the hills, and I bathed in summer’s glow. For the first time in my life I felt visible, witnessed for who I really was and accepted: I was loved –unconditionally loved by a Mother. That She was a mountain field didn’t seem odd at all. I loved her back – fiercely. I marveled. To be in love with my goddess, the one that lived in this field, brook, young forest, the one who inhabited each of these rolling hills and mountains seemed so natural. Remarkably, She celebrated my presence not only by gifting me with a love that ran like a great underground river beneath me but because She created a palpable sense of belonging. I belonged to Her. She loved me just because I was. I couldn’t get over it. My gratitude knew no bounds. All I wanted to do was to serve her…

She was visible in so many ways – in the riot of purple and green jack in the pulpits that sprung out of the sphagnum moss behind the camp in the moist valley that often filled with water, through the solitary pink lady slipper that appeared by the bridge that crossed the brook, the tiny white swamp violets, the blue fringed gentians and pearl-white turtleheads that popped up in the meadow fed by it’s own spring in the center of the field.

I glimpsed her face in the cedar that sprung to life in the rich wooded soil that bordered the brook, she sang to me from the wild apple branches that bowed over rippling water, she blinked through each firefly night, burst into a “high” when thunder and lightening churned up the waters and the brook overflowed – White Fire crackling out of her clouds and slamming into me.

Poems by Annelinde Metzner

For five days this March, I gifted myself with a stay at the Meher Baba Center in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I often plan short getaways to help me find my center and decompress from everyday life. The contrast between “worlds” is very great when you’re staying in a pristine nature preserve with the overwhelming commercialism of Myrtle Beach right outside the gates. I knew that this retreat was helping me to deal with a similar conflict I felt in my body, from the pain and stress of living in this moment in time. Poems flowed easily, and I’m grateful for that.

Retreat in Myrtle Beach

A preserve of five hundred acres,
here on the South Carolina coast,
where fresh-water lagoons teem with waterbirds
just across the forested dunes from the breaking ocean waves.
Turtles sun in the grass,
deer leap and raise generations.
A preserve! and out beyond the gates,
over the protecting wall,
is Myrtle Beach, another type of Mecca.
Come out the gate, and it’s “Hooters!”
then, “Tsunami Beach Souvenir Shop!” (everything on sale!)
then, “Maui Beach Miniature Golf,” with an exploding volcano!
and of course, “the MAGA Megastore,”
who’ll sell you anything you could want or need.
This morning I awoke in my sweet-smelling cabin,
little propane heater in the old fireplace
keeping me warm.
And here is the teaching:
Plant your feet on the Earth.
Love this greenness, these creatures,
love Yourself,
because the entire off-kilter, out-of-balance,
koyaanisqatsi (*) world out there
is depending on You: feet planted,
head in the stars.

Invocation to Shekhinah-Lilith-Ishtar … By D’vorah Grenn, PhD

Moderator’s Note: This beautiful invocation appeared on the Lilith Institute’s website on February Feb 19, 2024. If you would like to learn more or see this invocation on their website, click here.

She of all knowing, dark wisdom … She of the deep abyss, snake’s descent, owl’s knowing … woman of the dark, the light.

We praise You, we stand in awe, marveling at the myriad surprises you hold in store for us always respectful of your power, your M/mystery.

Shekhinah-Lilith-Ishtar, we worship you, in all your aspects; we sing your name.

Walk with us as we yearn to see you, to feel you, to exchange the divine sparks we both need to live … Never let us forget your P/presence in, around and through us, as we seek to proclaim and praise you in every corner of the world, in your many guises, by every name.

Walk with us as we love you, when we are angered by you, when we fail to comprehend you and when we renew our resolve to serve …

Be patient with us as we must be with ourselves, and each other, holding your Presence even when we are in doubt or despair.

MaVynee Betsch: Preserving History and the Environment 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 Feb 18, 2025. You can see more of their posts here.

“It’s history and nature all wrapped together, baby.” -MaVynee Betsch

Recently I visited the Best Richardson African Diaspora Literature & Culture Museum (BRADLC Museum) in St. Augustine, Florida. On our tour with owner Gigi Best-Richardson, I was captivated by the stunning cover of a children’s book on display, Saving American Beach: The Biography of African American Environmentalist MaVynee Betsch, written by Heidi Tyline King and illustrated by Ekua Holmes.

I had heard of MaVynee’s great-grandfather, Abraham Lincoln Lewis (1864-1947), one of the founders of the Afro-American Life Insurance Company in Jacksonville, Florida during the Jim Crow era. Lewis became Florida’s first Black millionaire.

Structural Inequality and State-Sanctioned Oppression of Women by NCRI

Moderator’s Note: This post has been posted in cooperation with the NCRI women’s committee. NCRI stands for the National Council of Resistance of Iran. You can learn more information as well as see this original article by clicking by link below. A description of their Council can be found at the end of this post. As an introduction, a NCRI representative sent us the following statement about the war. It was originally posted on March 11th and we are reposting it because of its importance.

STATEMENT: I would like to mention that the Iranian Resistance — which established a government-in-exile years ago — has long advocated a clear position: no to war, no to appeasement of the mullahs, but a third option — regime change by the Iranian people and their organized resistance.

Mrs. Maryam Rajavi, the President-elect of the Resistance and an internationally recognized figure, has outlined this vision in her Ten-Point Plan. I am sharing the link below, as it reflects the roadmap of the Iranian Resistance. Maryam Rajavi’s Ten-Point Plan for the future of Iran

Unfortunately, behind-the-scenes dealings and political interests have often ignored this democratic alternative. In recent days, a provisional government framework has also been announced as part of this process. Announcement of the Provisional Government by the National Council of Resistance of Iran (NCRI)

Ariadne & Me – Betrayers by Arianne MacBean

Two of the most well-known aspects of mythical Ariadne are the way she betrays and is betrayed. Hers is the ultimate ancient Greek karma story. She casts off the burden of her father’s narcissism, her mother’s bewitchment, her half-brother’s torment. No one thinks she has it in her. But she does. In the thick night, she holds the thread for her lover while he makes his kill and flees with him into the dark open sea. Then, in the most vulnerable space between sleep and wakefulness, she finds herself abandoned. Here, on an island in the middle of nowhere, she cries out and is moved. Did the ancient Greeks tell this tale as warning for women, or advice?

What kind of woman would do what Ariadne did – leave everything – her inheritance, her kingdom, her role as a priestess – for the unknown other? Why would a daughter do that?

She wanted to exist.

From the Archives, Herstory Profiles: Irish Women of Faith, Activism and Politics by Anjeanette LeBoeuf

As it is March, and March is a month for me that is always devoted to celebrating my Irish roots and women, my Herstory Profiles will be on a few exemplary women from Ireland: Brigid (Irish Goddess and Catholic Saint), Margaret O’ Carroll of Éile (Paragon of Leadership, Strength, and Compassion), and Mary Robinson (Historic Leader, Activist, and Humanitarian.)

We look first to one of the most known religious, divine females in Ireland – Brigid. She plays a fascinating role as she is both in the Celtic Religion (Predates Christianity and can be considered part of the indigenous religion of the Celtic Isles) and as a Christian monastic/saint. She has many variations of names and celebrations but she is first and foremost crucial and important enough to last through the ages and changes in religious traditions.

Brig, Brigid, Brigit – the Celtic Goddess of wisdom, poetry, healing, protection, smithing, and domesticated animals. There is evidence that she was considered at times, a triple deity; Brigid the Poet, Brigid the healer, and Brigid the Smith.

Mother/Meter: Reclaiming Poetry’s Sacred Goddess Languages by Annie Finch

Those of us on the paths of the Divine Feminine can go to great lengths to approach Her. We might read and study hard-to-find books, invest time and money to visit temples and museums, and seek out Goddesses-related power spots around the world. We might acquire ceremonial jewelry and devotional artworks, attend conferences, track down Goddesses-inspired music, and apprentice with teachers from spiritual traditions that may be far removed from our own heritage. We might invest in supplies and training to craft devotional music, art, sculpture, and apparel, and create or attend performances, healings, and rituals honoring the Feminine Sacred.

Yet there is one important ritual activity that we routinely forget and ignore, one that we know was key to Goddess worship whenever we have written prayers, from Demeter to Inanna, Isis to Freyja, Hekate to Sarasvati. This time-honored practice is simple to learn, costs nothing to use, and quickly, safely, and legally creates an altered state of mind that brilliantly and efficiently connects us with our spirits, the natural world, the Divine Feminine, and each other. And furthermore, this ancient sacred craft is not limited to indigenous or ancient cultures but is already part of the familiar heritage of anyone who speaks English, so there is no danger of cultural appropriation in using it.

Dove Tales, part 1 by Sara Wright

Hundreds (it felt like thousands) of wings descended around the stone table I was sitting on at dawn. Transfixed by this sight that seemed to be occurring within as well as without I could barely comprehend the thousands of soft coos that floated through the air. Celestial music filled my ears. Was this really happening I wondered even as the birds clustered round my feet? I’d loved doves as a child, had drawn thousands of them. In Medieval paintings white doves descended upon Mary as Grace. The child believed. Doves were like no other birds the child was sure…

The buildings and churches of Assisi all had doves cooing from rooftops distracting me from outdoor lectures. I was attending a Jungian conference in Assisi Italy and every morning found me wandering the narrow streets or climbing Saint Francis’s mountain to pick wildflowers and sweet herbs. I had no idea until approaching Assisi that the golden sunflowers that stretched across the horizon almost blinding me that I would spend one week of my life in two worlds. One as a member of a professional conference, the other submerged in experiences that lifted me out of ordinary reality. The time with the doves was just one of many experiences of Mary, Saint Francis and Old Women (who approached me in the streets) that lifted me out of the life I knew.

What I felt and sensed was stronger than any rational thought, so experiential reality held me fast and even at the time these experiences were occurring I hoped this reality would never let me go.