Oscar in the Year 2050 by Marie Cartier

Thank you to –the Oscars!

My movie SCAVENGE FOR YOUR LIFE. I’m so thrilled to be nominated and to WIN! Thank you!

In the year 2050—and here we are, right? Am I right? Right!

SCAVENGE FOR YOUR LIFE. In the year 2050 when we are lucky to have this beautiful theater in downtown Los Angeles.

Here we are! I mean…we are eating and drinking in the gorgeous ambient light of street lights! And first, I want to make sure to thank and appreciate all the efforts made here to create this stage on the site of the former Dolby Theater!

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Poem: A Valentine’s Wish, 2023 by Marie Cartier

What if everyone said everyone was their Valentine?
I mean you are walking down the streets telling strangers:
You are adorable.
You are my love.
Kiss. Kiss.
Well, maybe not, I am thinking of those candy hearts, with the sayings, my favorite Valentine’s candy.

But what if everyone in the world on Valentine’s Day, February 14th,
decided that that the world, the Earth, was their lover?
Squishy hugs and smacking kisses,
and loving her with what she wants.

What if we all decided for twenty-four hours to love everyone
in the way they wanted, in the way they needed?
To respect women?
To say please and thank you and excuse me?
To honor difference and listen to all these voices
who have been silenced?
To give the sweet chocolate of understanding to those
who have been so misunderstood?
To take fifty Happy Meals to downtown L.A. and pass them out to the homeless,
yelling, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”?

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Women’s March in CA 1/22/23 by Marie Cartier

WOMENS MARCH, Long Beach, California on the 50th anniversary of the passing of Roe v Wade,
January 22, 2023

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A Fable for the Season by Marie Cartier

Once upon a time there was a person who only saw themselves in the mirror—even if someone else was passing by in the background, and they certainly never saw the shadows of all the people who had helped them in their life swimming in their eyes. That’s the way it is sometimes—we just don’t see what we don’t want to see.

 And every day this person would look into the mirror, adjust their hair or their jewelry or their collar and then go off to work—never seeing anyone besides themselves.

Until one day they fell. The fell hard over a “stupid, goddamn tree trunk root that some goddam someone should have cut or shaved or done something with –goddamn it.” They said a version of this over and over on their way to the hospital.

And because of that they had to be fed by a nurse. And they had to have their bandages changed. And they had to have a cast put on—several. And they had to have a lot of things happen because it had been a nasty fall and they broke both wrists and their right leg.

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ClubQ…. #702 by Marie Cartier

I have written about this before

And, no doubt, I will write about it again.

This morning we woke to the news of

Another mass shooting, a mass shooting is defined as four or more people shot in a single violent outburst.

So, this time last night there were five killed, and eighteen injured—a mass shooting

Last night at a gay bar in Colorado Springs, ClubQ

The only place, so described by its patrons, for anyone queer in Colorado Springs to go.

I am visiting Denver for a conference and to see friends.

Queer friends.

I don’t live here anymore.

But I know that gay bar without ever entering it.

The sense of being me, being here, I could have gone

There last night and screamed in joy for the drag queens…made it rain with compliments and dollar bills for one of them named Del Lusional….and others.

I could have been happy in that club with chosen family that I had never met before

And I could have been one of those who screamed as I watched someone die, or as I was shot.

I wasn’t there last night. But I know that bar without ever having entered it.

I know those people and how they would have made me feel welcome. How they would have made me feel

Part of things. How they would have made me family.

2.

The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun, says the GOP narrative.

But no one with a gun stopped the guy at ClubQ

I am a woman with a pen and a notebook. Age sixty. With queer friends crying and angry Because we’ve been here before: Pulse where 49 were killed and the only thing stopping this from being another Pulse was a good guy without a gun.

The GOP has ramped up its hate on the gay population- let’s take down gay marriage, and even a politician who advocates execution for gays.

And so here we are: an assailant with an assault rifle in a gay bar. He had a history of violence on his own mother

And yet, here he is entering a queer club with a gun.

In Colorado my friends mark themselves safe from the mass shooting at Colorado Springs

But are we …?

Can I mark myself safe from gun violence? homophobia?

From the random and now expected crazy cycle of hate.

Today was Trans Remembrance Day in Colorado Springs and because of the shooting last night “the only place to go” is shuttered today.

But nobody is more resilient says my friend, than gays, than drag queens, than trans kids, than butch dykes,

The queer community has a history of resistance, my friend says… I say we have a history of claiming geography in contested spaces. We will do it again and again we both say.

I let hope flutter. There will be a vigil in California where I live. There will be a vigil in Colorado. There will be vigils. There will be prayers. And thoughts.

And…

There were 38,000  gun-related deaths in the US this year. The GOP passed no gun control laws There were 2 instances of voter fraud. The GOP passed 361 voter suppression laws.

This is America.

3.

What’s it gonna take? Asks most of Americans who support gun control.

The GOP opposes gun control overandoverandover and here we are: the not so new anymore normal.

And make no mistake: this is normal now. This is America

Where a public space is defined by

Fear.

Where are we gonna go now? Asks the queer folk of Colorado Springs and indeed we can all ask that—where are we gonna go now?

Where are we gonna go now? Asks a drag performer on the news who hid in the dressing room with the door locked and two friends. They threw themselves on the floor. They saved themselves just in time.

Because five people were murdered in the five minutes that the gunman opened fire on a crowded dance club before two people took him down. A former vet and a performer in high heels. A veteran of several wars, a military guy there with his family to watch his daughter’s friend do drag. He tackled the assailant and took him down. And told the performer to kick the assailant with her high heels.

How I love queer community and our allies. How I love how we love.

And…in five minutes before he rushed the guy five people died.

Where are we gonna go now?

There is no safe place for us now, says another performer on the news.

And my friend who I am visiting says, if someone can kill twenty-five children in a classroom in Sandy Hook and… it. Has. Only. Gotten. Worse. I mean, she says, what’s it gonna take?

If that’s where we are—where are we gonna go now?

It’s Thanksgiving week here in the US, the end of November.

It’s number 702 in terms of mass shootings this year.

Is that it, America? Are we done?

What’s it gonna take? Is this really our new, not so new, normal?

Number 702… is that it, America, for this year?

There were 702 as I write this poem, but as I edit it I look up the number and now…there are 706. Can we get to a point where we answer- that’s it. We are not 706 and counting.

We are 706…and done.

For now, I mark myself safe– from despair.

And…I mark myself lucky to be alive. And…

I mark myself loved. I mark myself part of this chosen family.

There is nothing this kid with a gun could do to make me change who I am, says my friend.

I look for the rainbow.

And I agree.

And I mark myself

Proud.

–Marie Cartier

November 21, 2022

Denver , Colorado

Number of Mass Shootings in America This Year Compared to Past Years (insider.com)

Mass Shooting Tracker

Bio

Marie Cartier is a teacher, poet, writer, healer, artist, and scholar. She holds a BA in Communications from the University of New Hampshire; an MA in English/Poetry from Colorado State University; an MFA in Theatre Arts (Playwriting) from UCLA; an MFA in Film and TV (Screenwriting) from UCLA; an MFA in Visual Art (Painting/Sculpture) from Claremont Graduate University; and a Ph.D. in Religion with an emphasis on Women and Religion from Claremont Graduate University.

Women’s March, October 2022, Long Beach, CA by Marie Cartier

All photos by the author

Marie Cartier

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Heat Wave by Marie Cartier

The heat wave was real. Suzie squinted into the afternoon light glinting off her pink ’69 VW. How was that still running, she thought, rebuilt and rebuilt? Work?

That’s how. And that’s how she’d keep running. Work. You just had to not freak out. You just had to not over heat.

But it was 125 degrees in Bakersfield. And she, like everyone else, had no air conditioning. And it wasn’t supposed to get better—it was supposed to get worse. She got in her VW and drove with the windows down—no AC– but a breeze was better than nothing. She pulled into the parking lot and waited for a spot to open up. She turned off her car to wait. Ten minutes but it was worth it. Six p.m. – it was a good time to have come. She walked out and got into the cart area.

Barely inside the supermarket she stood and let the air wash over her—air conditioning. Conditioning the air. The security guard asked if she was a buyer or a browser. Browsers could be in the front area with the carts, as long as there was room. Buyers could enter and walk up and down, and down and up—the breeze lifting the sweat from their skin.

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“Guns: The Sanctity of Life” by Marie Cartier

What can I say about guns?

I want to be like Gabby Giffords and survive

I want to be Emma Gonzalez and fight back

I want to be

I want to talk about how GUNS are less regulated

than my body

Guns can leave any state and travel to another state

and kill someone

I hate talking about guns

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A Chorus of Need: I Need an Abortion by Marie Cartier

I need an abortion and I can’t get one

Because I don’t have the money to fly somewhere else other than …here

Where I can’t get one

I need an abortion and I can’t get one

Because the kid, or the cells of a maybe kid, were put in here by the guy that raped me and if I have to have it, I will kill myself

I need an abortion and I can’t get one

Because I have four kids already and I can’t feed another one

I need an abortion and I can’t get one

Because it’s my dad’s…did you hear me say that? I have never said that. I have never said what he does to me…and now I have to show everyone… if I can’t get this out of me I will…

I have to get this thing out of me

I need an abortion and I can’t get one

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From the Archives: I Believe Anita! by Marie Cartier

This was originally posted on April 7, 2014

During the past week I attended a Los Angeles premiere of a new documentary Anita: Speaking Truth to Power (Dir: Freida Lee Mock USA, 2013). The screening was sold out and I had great seats saved for me– sitting with a friend who works at Samuel Goldwyn, the distributor of this fine film.

In 1991, Anita Hill provided testimony she hoped would serve to dissemble the nomination of Clarence Thomas as a Supreme Court justice. Although the vote would end up being close (52-48) Hill’s testimony did not serve to dissuade the decision — Clarence Thomas’ nomination was confirmed and he was appointed to a life term on the Supreme Court four days after Hill’s testimony concluded. Here is an outline of the debate.

anita-580x857

I remember watching the hearings in 1991 at a friend’s house in Sacramento, CA where I was couch-surfing with another friend while we were in Sacramento from Los Angeles to protest for gay rights—to speak our truth to power. I remember being amazed that she was doing this—and that it was being televised. We were glued to the set before we went off to the protest we were attending.

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A Poem for Our Abortion Rights by Marie Cartier

Fecundity: the ability to produce an abundance of new growth, but also the ability to produce new ideas

And now in the hour of our discontent, we are asked to worry about

fecundity. I suppose we can call it that—have we made enough babies yet?

As a people. A people ruled by patriarchy. No small thing. “A social system in which males dominate and hold primary power.”

Oh my god—am I sick of it? Anyone with a brain is sick of it…I want to think.

But they have brains, right? The afore mentioned patriarchs? Who are

creating this new social system?

A meme goes out on social media—I’m not pro-murder I’m pro-Ellen, thirteen years old and pregnant by her father

I’m pro-Margaret, with five kids and I cannot to afford to feed another

I’m pro-Eliza, pregnant with a baby known to have serious birth defects

I’m pro– you get the idea.

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photo essay, part 2: bans off our bodies rally by Marie Cartier

photos from bans off our bodies rally, long beach ca may 14, 2022

all photos by: marie cartier

BIO: Marie Cartier is a teacher, poet, writer, healer, artist, and scholar. She holds a BA in Communications from the University of New Hampshire; an MA in English/Poetry from Colorado State University; an MFA in Theatre Arts (Playwriting) from UCLA; an MFA in Film and TV (Screenwriting) from UCLA; an MFA in Visual Art (Painting/Sculpture) from Claremont Graduate University; and a Ph.D. in Religion with an emphasis on Women and Religion from Claremont Graduate University.

Moderator’s note: This is the 2nd of the two part series. Part 1 was posted yesterday.

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photo essay, part 1: bans off our bodies rally by Marie Cartier

photos from bans off our bodies rally, long beach ca may 14, 2022

all photos by: marie cartier

BIO: Marie Cartier is a teacher, poet, writer, healer, artist, and scholar. She holds a BA in Communications from the University of New Hampshire; an MA in English/Poetry from Colorado State University; an MFA in Theatre Arts (Playwriting) from UCLA; an MFA in Film and TV (Screenwriting) from UCLA; an MFA in Visual Art (Painting/Sculpture) from Claremont Graduate University; and a Ph.D. in Religion with an emphasis on Women and Religion from Claremont Graduate University.

moderator’s note: There are so many powerful photos that they will be posted in two parts, today and tomorrow.

Continue reading “photo essay, part 1: bans off our bodies rally by Marie Cartier”

Mission, Not Glory: A Dialogue by Marie Cartier

Well, he didn’t do it for the glory, that’s for sure.

Maybe he did?

He’s gone. When you immolate –you’re gone. What glory is there in that?

Well, the reason he did it—as I understand it—is because the world is burning up anyway. He made a statement.

Exactly- a single statement. So, who’s getting the glory?

I mean we don’t know the entire impact it has. He took his life for God’s sake. On the Supreme Court steps. April 22, 2022. It means something. He knew he would be immortalized.

But, what difference does it make if he’s gone? I think it was a waste. I wish he would have run for –anything. School Board! Someone that committed should have stuck around and tried to do something.

He did do something. It’s just…he made the ultimate sacrifice.

I’m sorry. He killed himself. And so…we’re left here without him. Without someone who was that committed as an activist.

The world is burning up. We won’t last another thirty years. So good for him for taking a stand. He was a Buddhist monk, right? Good for him.

He was a hippie from Boulder, Colorado. Wynn Alan Bruce.

Well, here’s a hero now. And I bet he’s a hero to Buddhist monks, too. Wynn Alan Bruce? He was a climate activist, not just a hippie. I mean, I’ll give you that he may never be well-known. But he’s known. Just not well- known.

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My Favorite President: Hillary by Marie Cartier

Can I finally write about that night? Not sure. Here goes. Hillary Clinton. My heart beat. I voted for her every chance I got. Loved her passionately—the way I’ve heard folks talk about working for a candidate with their whole soul. I was so happy: she was winning. We were going to have a woman president.

            What do you want to be when you grow up?

PRESIDENT!

Girls can’t be president, stupid! That’s never gonna happen.

No more. My wife and I wore our white pantsuits to the primaries. What a night! She won! The most exciting political event of my life –and that’s saying a lot for someone who first put her body down in front of a nuclear facility at fifteen. I know politics, And protests.

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From the Archives: The Feminist Toolbox by Marie Cartier

This blog was originally posted on April 4, 2012. There were a significant number of comments which you can read here.

Photo of Marie Cartier by Lenn Keller

This spring I am teaching “Feminist Ethics” at California State University Northridge. For the students’ midterm and final we are doing an innovative project that we want to share with the “Feminism and Religion” blogging community. My students have been asked to find a problem in the public world, or their private world, that they wish to interact with and provide a solution for. The solution can solve the problem or a piece of the problem. They must deconstruct the problem and then construct the solution for the midterm. For their final they actually must *do* the solution.

In creating their solution, they must address and use the tools in what I call “the Feminist Ethical Toolbox.” These tools are ones we have been extracting from the class readings (so far we have read the anthologies Feminist Theological Ethics, and Feminist Ethics and Social Policy, and Carol Gilligan’s philosophical treatise on the patriarchy, In The Deepening Darkness, and the students have been using the toolbox and its accumulated (and accumulating) tools throughout the class, in their own lives, and interacting with the toolbox in the reading response journals in terms of looking at wider world issues.

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My Funny, Queer Valentine by Marie Cartier

I wrote a short story in the spirit of both my book Baby, You Are My Religion and Valentine’s Day for this month’s blog. Happy Valentines’ month. <3 Marie

She remembered that is what it had said, “To my funny, queer valentine.” She had thought then, as she squatted on the toilet at the If Club in downtown Los Angeles, 1963, trying to read the graffiti in front of her that yes, that is what it said. She thought to herself, Shirl, that is some graffiti. It read, “To my funny, queer valentine: I’ll miss you. I’ll always miss you.” Shirl could hear in the background Lesley Gore singing her new hit, “It’s My Party.”

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This is What Democracy Looks Like by Marie Cartier

Tell me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!

PHOTO ESSAY: January 6th protest in support of voting rights

Governor George Deukmejian Courthouse, Long Beach, CA

January 6, 2022

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From the Archives: There Is No Santa-The Antlered Flying Goddess With Gifts by Marie Cartier

Moderator’s note: This marvelous FAR site has been running for 10 years and has had more than 3,600 posts in that time. There are so many treasures that have been posted in this decade that they tend to get lost in the archives. We have created this column so that we can all revisit some of these gems. Today’s blogpost was originally posted December 25, 2015. You can visit it here to see the original comments.

Marie bringing in Elen of the Ways
photo by Tony Mierzwicki

One of my colleagues at Feminism and Religion recently wrote of Xmas and Feminine Wisdom. My blog, for Christmas Day continues this exploration.

Elen of the Ways is a figure primarily studied by scholar, Carolyn Wise. She wrote two core articles available on the web here and here. Wise writes that in order to “track” and find Elen of the Ways she had to peel back the layers:

…to the earliest track ways, the migratory tracks of the Reindeer and Elk. Elen moves across vast tracts of time, and land, cloaked and masked appropriately for each age.

As the Green Lady, she peers out between the trees in forests …As a British Venus… she is guardian of the underground streams that carry the sacred waters. She is the Guardian of the ancient track ways, the Leys, the Kundalini currents in nature. And as the Horned Goddess, she leads us to the first track ways, the migratory tracks of the reindeer and later, to the path of the red deer through the forests. From here she leads us to the lost Shamanism of the isles of Britain and we can follow her across Scandinavia, Russia, Mongolia, Siberia, India and beyond.

You can read more about Elen in the book edited by Carolyn Wise, Finding Elen: The Quest for Elen of the Ways. Elen is:

…part goddess, part dream, part saint, a green lady and a water nymph, primordial mother and patroness of deer, and guardian of the Old Straight Tracks and solar alignments. …Elen is as real as the roads named after her, as solid as the ancient paths that carry her presence.

What are these tracks? Part of the story can be explained by understanding that there are ley lines, or energy paths throughout the globe. These paths were “tracked” by shamans, pagans, and regular folk and still exert their influence today in very recognizable ways. People celebrated earlier this week on the Solstice (December 21) at Stonehenge. “One of the most important and well-known features of Stonehenge is its alignment on the midwinter sunset-midsummer sunrise solstitial axis,” a spokesperson said. “The midwinter sun sets between the two upright stones of the great trilithon.” The solsitial axis is part of the ley line network that connects sacred sites such as Newgrange in Ireland, a sacred burial mound which lights up only the morning of Solstice.

At dawn in Newgrange, on the mornings surrounding the solstice a narrow beam of light enters the 62-foot long passage and lights the floor. It moves along the ground, from the window box until it lights the rear chamber. This Neolithic light show lasts 17 minutes….Local expert Michael Fox told National Geographic, “Archaeologists have classified Newgrange as a passage tomb but it is more than that. ‘Ancient temple’ is a more fitting label: a place of astronomical, spiritual, and ceremonial importance.”

If light that travels around the world lighting up sacred sites and bringing the gift of light to all corners of the world starts to sound like Christmas, let’s extend that thought to understand the connection to flying reindeer. According to Caroline Wise,

…the only kind of female deer to have antlers are Reindeer. Not only does the female reindeer have antlers, but she is stronger than the male and does not shed her antlers in winter. It is an older female reindeer that leads the herds.

elen of the ways Dreaming

So as I like to tell my students, “the McDonald drive through version” of what we’ve heard so far is: Most likely, yes, Rudolph is a girl/female reindeer, keeping her antlers leading a herd of female reindeer keeping their antlers, traveling with Elen (Santa) throughout the sky giving the gift of light—the light of Rudolph’s red nose that keeps the sleigh on track—following the ley lines around the world, and lighting up the sacred sites, turning the sacred wheel towards spring.

Wise continues the thread of Elen and Christmas thus:

…Leys as shamanic flight paths was relevant to Elen in her guises of both Empress and the Reindeer-woman…the Father Christmas story is based on the shamans of the Sámi people. These people (and other reindeer societies) had a symbiotic relationship with the Reindeer. They would follow the herds along their migratory tracks. Their food, clothes, homes, tools, even needles and thread came from the reindeer. ..the Father Christmas story is based on the older, non-Christian Shamans of Lapland. …to aid their shamanic flights, the shamans needed the properties of the Fly Agaric mushroom, the fabulous red and white toadstool of fairy stories. Taking the mushroom can be risky, or at least unpleasant, because of toxins it contains. The Shamans noted that the reindeer ate the mushrooms, which grew around the silver birch trees, and suffered no ill effects.

The shaman lets the substance pass through the reindeer, neutralizing the toxins, and then drinks its urine. The active ingredients are unaffected, and the shaman enters his trance and begins his flight. Above the snow he can see the herds, see the predators, and gains helpful knowledge for the tribe. He gains wisdom of the plants and healing, as the Fly Agaric opens the gateways for him to be able to commune with the spirits of the land, the beasts, and the ancestors. He carries back the gifts of healing, and also news of the herds. When finishing his trance session, the shaman would enter the yurt through the smoke hole, and slide down the central silver birch pole with his bag of healing plants and his paraphernalia – Father Christmas coming down the chimney.

 And Christmas trees?…the Fly Agaric is found mainly at the base of the silver birch and pine trees. It can be found beneath conifers, mostly evergreens, such as cedar, and the spruce and firs used for Christmas trees. …Reindeer Shaman spirituality was holistic within its environment, a complete cosmology including the people, the herds, the landscape, the stars…Therefore the trees that the mushrooms grew around were an an important part of the whole.

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From the Archives: And the Pies! Ongoing Grateful Thanks for Tradition by Marie Cartier

Moderator’s note: This marvelous FAR site has been running for 10 years and has had more than 3,500 posts in that time. There are so many treasures that have been posted in this decade that they tend to get lost in the archives. We are beginning this column so that we can all revisit some of these gems. Today’s blogpost was originally posted November 24, 2018. You can visit it here to see the original comments.

In November 2017 I wrote about pie baking. 

And in November 2015 I also wrote about pie baking.

Photo by Lisa Hartouni

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Women’s March in Long Beach, CA by Marie Cartier

Hello FAR family! Here are photos from the October 2nd Women’s March in Long Beach, CA. The Women’s March began after the 2016 “election” and continued through the Trump years, and was not immediately active after Biden won. But after Texas passed it horrific ban on abortions with no exceptions, the Women’s March re-ignited across the nation…  especially in response to the recent Supreme Court  approval of the unconstitutional ruling on abortion in Texas which limits abortion access to 6 weeks of pregnancy – a time span that denies abortion completely as almost all women do not even know they are pregnant within this time, never mind having time to decide if an abortion is their choice. 

Women’s March targets Supreme Court, with abortion on line – ABC News (go.com)  

The Women’s March came together in October in a very short amount of time. For example the Long Beach rally came together in just 10 days. I attended and was one of 500+ (though reports said 200, I was there and we were more!

Click then scroll to see full image…

May the revolution continue! As Hillary Clinton said, “Women’s Rights are human rights.” And my favorite chant throughout the March was, “Who sent us? Ruth sent us!!”

Bio

Marie Cartier has a Ph.D. in Religion with an emphasis on Women and Religion from Claremont Graduate University.  She is the author of the critically acclaimed book Baby, You Are My Religion: Women, Gay Bars, and Theology Before Stonewall (Routledge 2013). She is a senior lecturer in Gender and Women’s Studies and Queer Studies at California State University Northridge, and in Film Studies at Univ. of CA Irvine.

Class: What I Did with My One Wild Life by Marie Cartier

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

            -Mary Oliver, “The Summer Day”

What did I do, the famous poet asks? Well, I survived, first of all, because that’s first.

Then, I got to ask the question and give an answer.

Then, I wanted to do so much– be a famous poet, too. But, really, so, few get to be that.

And after all, I needed money, so I was a waitress–breakfast, dinner, cocktails, diner, a short order cook, fry cook, prep cook, a janitor, a secretary, a saleswoman…and all that time I was a student. I did theater and one woman shows, and poetry slams and plays and I went to school and got degrees like other people get winter coats—just in case.

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Suffrage is Unfinished Business—On The 101 Anniversary of the 19th Amendment by Marie Cartier

Dear FAR readers – please find photos from a celebration of the 101 anniversary of women’s suffrage, the 19th Amendment, that I attended August 26, 2021. That day marks the end of the 100th year of women having the right to vote.

I have been proud to be a part of, these past few years, a group calling themselves Suffrage in California – LBSuffrage100 Suffrage 100. We have met continuously in person and on line for two years now, stymied by the pandemic, but still pushing forward throughout this year with actions at the Democratic Convention, Long Beach Suffrage 100 celebrates in silence for centennial anniversary of the 19th Amendment – Press Telegram, standing in silence as the original suffragettes did outside the White House. We also of course marked the 100th anniversary of suffrage, and at that time switched focus during the election to lobby for the John Lewis Voting Rights Act, part of the “unfinished business” of suffrage.  Text – H.R.4 – 117th Congress (2021-2022): John R. Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act of 2021 | Congress.gov | Library of Congress which seeks to expand federal ability to challenge discriminatory election rules.

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Loving Venus, a poem by Marie Cartier

Dedicated to Carol Christ, 1945-2021, who taught so many of us how to love the Goddess


She is called “Nude Woman” and currently lives
in her natural museum house in Vienna.
Nude woman. She is art, but she is not in an art museum.
And there are questions:
why was she originally painted red? Why are her breasts so large?
Why is her stomach so large?
Why does she fit in a human hand?
What was her purpose?
Was it to entice men, or to comfort women?
Historians disagree.
Is her hair woven? Or is it a hat?
Why does she have no eyes? No feet? Why is she there?

Continue reading “Loving Venus, a poem by Marie Cartier”

Blue Is My Favorite Color by Marie Cartier

All photos by Kimberly Esslinger

You can’t have the ocean without blue.

I walk at night, that’s the time of year

the grunion run, a silver school teaching us that it’s

work to populate –the small shimmer of a female screwing herself into

the sand. I wish her blue. She wooshes three thousand eggs

into the hole she’s made, her birthing room. The males circle her, and fertilize the eggs with a hug. The males leave and the female is quiet.

Then she flips and flops herself back and forth and forth and back,

side flopping to the ocean.

I wish her blue. I wish her free. I bless the eggs.

Continue reading “Blue Is My Favorite Color by Marie Cartier”

How I Learned to Make Maps by Marie Cartier

1.

I went into the unknown world with glasses

that made everything so clear I could

move through this world into the next.

Before I got my glasses…I didn’t see the way I could step to the edge,

put out my hand, split the known world and

go through: into the unknown.

I became someone without history.

Those rooms with my father, those times, those days, then nights.

Those stories …

Incest really is not a word that describes anything.

It does not describe the way the body splinters and then the known world separates and

when the known world separates, when all you know is you splitting,

 all you see is clouds.

So, I got glasses and I walked to the very edge of the flat world and stepped through.

Oh, I said, the world is round… is round is round. I started circling the round world

to find my hero, my Self.

I was alone, but my glasses were sparkling clean.

Continue reading “How I Learned to Make Maps by Marie Cartier”

How I Learned to Grow Wings by Marie Cartier

April 2021, Poem

Visibility is

this body opening against itself over and over… an existence moving through fibers was

the one thing I had. When was the time…breathe in? Breathe out.

My existence to myself was the most political act. You can’t erase me. I exist for myself.

I am thirteen. I stand next to my father and say, “Don’t you touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again.” My mother stands by the sink, her hand reaches out and clutches its edge. My father sits and looks up

at me. He opens his mouth and closes it. I turn away, expecting his hand to land across my back.

I imagine me falling. But that doesn’t happen. Not that day.

That day I stood up. Said no, turned my back and walked away. I am a political act.

I am a body with a voice and I heard myself speaking for myself when no one else would, I said no.

No is the most beautiful word in the English language for a woman who learns its power.

The spell of no. I cast it when I was thirteen.


The gaze is

when they saw me. I started to erase myself, I was without fingers first. They kept finding me, so

I erased my hands. They kept seeing me, so I erased my arms. They kept locating me, so I erased my feet and my legs. But they kept finding me. I erased my secret places between my legs—what they most wanted. I erased my belly so I wouldn’t be seen eating, and my breasts so I would not be noticed as

a girl. But they found me anyway. I erased my neck and my head disappeared.

All that was left was my shoulders. I felt the weight of their gaze, and everything they wanted and took. And so, I lifted my shoulders, and I found my wings.

And I flew, and in flight, I let all of my parts come home.

A woman flying was the one thing they never thought to look for. But I found her. And she was me.

Continue reading “How I Learned to Grow Wings by Marie Cartier”

I Heard my Own Siren Song, and Followed It (a poem) by Marie Cartier

They didn’t know I was a mermaid.

               That I had a siren song.

               That I could lure, and I could kill.

               And that I would eventually

               because – I was a mermaid.

When my father tried to throw my brother

down a flight of stairs, I jumped on him.

Six feet tall. I was ten years old.

But I had the tail. He had

nothing. Against. All. I. was.

               I was a sea creature. I was kind,

               but I was still a sea creature. So, when another

               brother asked, who do you think you are?

               I hit him hard so he would know

               he had to listen. If I told him to hide, he had to hide. I

               was a mermaid. I had a tail.

I wouldn’t be there forever.

Continue reading “I Heard my Own Siren Song, and Followed It (a poem) by Marie Cartier”

How I Learned to Love Snakes (a poem) by Marie Cartier


Can I recall a time when my resilience surprised me?

My mother always said, “If you feel bad, go out into the garden and eat worms.” Sigh. We didn’t have a garden. My resilience. My head hits the counter, as my father’s hand slams into the back of my head. I am locked in a closet. I am. That would be my mother as I grew up. Kicked up. Weeds grow. They do. What is surprising to me at sixty is not my resilience, but the fact that I never leaned back. Stopped. Being resilient is the inside and out of my blood type—moving through all of my veins. I am surprised if I cut myself there is blood left. But there is. I still bleed.

This is resilience.

Can I recall a time when resistance was the only option?

My father. I am twelve. My best friend is over. I go in the other room with him. I have to. She hears this, my best friend. I resist shame like a knife blade I hold. I leave the room with the blade held out. Shame then holds out a cloak promising me something. A space to hide maybe. I resist. I am in a cold fever. My best friend and I sit; we are watching a documentary on TV. My mother sits behind us. She says to no one, “Things happen at everyone’s house. I bet things happen at your house, too.” My best friend and I say nothing. I resist feeling. On the TV are flamingoes and I will hate flamingoes for the rest of my life.

This is resistance. Continue reading “How I Learned to Love Snakes (a poem) by Marie Cartier”

This Story, I Am This Story by Marie Cartier

photo by Kimberly Esslinger

1.

The papaya, the lemon, the squash.
The everything going bad—not yet.
I can pickle anything I can save—still. And I am never still.
Still…at sixty-four here I am. Rise. This is age—still.

2.

I have a passport to somewhere that does not
exist. As a white skin person with color
roots that do not show. My grandfather could not
have had the chance I have to walk at night
in a white neighborhood and nobody knows who I am,
until they know. And still… I am here. This is race—still.

3.

An ivory castle, an ant hill teeming with fire ants, a
stop sign, the rich woman’s house my grandmother
cleaned, the rich woman was my English teacher. My
father beat me for wanting to go to the Ivy League
school, Sarah Lawrence—I could not want to go
where he did not go. So, I went—to the state school.
But, I went, and I did, and I still…I’m
never still. This is possession.
This is wanting—still.

4.

The dark room without a light. The stars
blink at me to move along. I am less
afraid of a coyote than a man out
with my dog at night walking
it off. Walking off the fear of a pandemic virus.
Walking off the fear of—everything—
where are we headed?
Somewhere.
Walking somewhere – my dog ahead of me,
Her ears pointing. She is…I am
never, ever still.

*

I am a rape survivor many times over, and I survived
to be this woman with a pen. And I am…
never still. Stillness as location.
For this is location—still.

5.

A red apple on the teacher’s desk is never
enough if you are not in the class.
The guy said I wouldn’t get the job at seventeen
because it had to go to a boy even though I
created the job the summer before—
a park director in a dangerous neighborhood that I made
a park because no one wanted it. But I did. And I did.
I knew he was wrong, but it would be twenty years
before the words sexual harassment became a
tool I could use. Because…and still. I am
now. I am never still. This is gender—still.

6.

I am a wave, a crash, a body among bodies
among bodies. I believe in people
fighting for what’s right. My wife and I
got married in 2008 and two days later
the state shut down gay marriage and we
spent our honeymoon protesting.
Her first protest sign,
“When do I get to vote on your marriage?’

*

And here I am. Still. Still protesting this shit, is
a sign I would use later. Still. I am never.
I am never still. And this is relationship—still.

*

It’s a long life, I say to students.
A lot can happen. Miles to go before you sleep.
A long road. At sixty-four I think, yes. Maybe yes, it isA Wonderful Life.
And still…
I am never still.
This body I am. This story I am
is to be continued. And still.
For I am never…I am never still.

–Marie Cartier
  January 9, 2021
With thanks to LA’s Cuties Coffee Shop, Poetry Workshop

 

Marie Cartier has a Ph.D. in Religion with an emphasis on Women and Religion from Claremont Graduate University.  She is the author of the critically acclaimed book Baby, You Are My Religion: Women, Gay Bars, and Theology Before Stonewall (Routledge 2013). She is a senior lecturer in Gender and Women’s Studies and Queer Studies at California State University Northridge, and in Film Studies at Univ. of CA Irvine.

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