“Fluff” and “Woo woo" is old-time misogyny

Never forget that "unscientific" and "old wives' tale" were used as a way to eradicate women healers and their ancient knowledge, a way for upper and middle class men to gatekeep healthcare for those with a certain level of education and wealth and for men of all classes to control and dominate women.

They burned women for knowing the healing plants and herbs, for their chants and prayers over birthing women. They tried to ban wise women from tending the sick with plant medicine. Then they co-opted the word 'midwife' to mean it's modern form, a highly skilled obstetric nurse. Then they decided that national insurance would only cover one type of medicine, creating a captive audience.

We are still finding out today how much wisdom really was in those "old wives' tales".

Calling something "fluff" or "woo woo" is a form of misogyny that goes back hundreds of years when they tried to discredit women healers even as the male doctors unknowingly transferred infection from corpses to birthing women. Why are birth workers participating in this denigration of spiritual, woman-centered practice?

I look at our healthcare system today and I see the damage that is still perpetuated against women in the name of "science". Where women's bodies and minds are collateral damage while they conduct their big baby trials and inductions for stillbirth reduction. When will it end? When we refuse to participate in their reality anymore.

The Story of Mis

I've been thinking this last week about the Irish tale of Mis. Her father was murdered and she went mad with grief, flew away and became a creature of the wild. She grew feathers and dreadlocks and hunted for food with her sharp talons.

The story goes that she could not be tempted to rejoin humankind with money nor food but by seeing the manhood of the gentle harper Dubh Ruis. He was so kind to her and every time they made love she became more and more human, less a wild creature. Eventually she felt ready to go with him back to society.

This aspect of the wild feminine is very dear to my heart. I see in Mis the post-traumatic stress I have experienced myself, the reduction to purely animal instincts for survival. As Dubh Ruis tempted her closer and closer with the promise of love I see the whites of her eyes, the way she would have her escape route planned out should it all go wrong. I see also the way that loving touch and connection is the best way to heal the wounds of the past. How patience and a pure heart wins the day.

I like to think she still stayed a bit wild. Maybe she kept a few feathers, or dreadlocks. Maybe she never got used to wearing shoes. Maybe she would go and howl at the full moon when everybody else was sleeping. Trauma changes you forever, and sometimes those changes are a gift, too.

Amazing dress by @mystonecircle

Stunning photography credit @_lifewithmelly_

Cancer Full Moon

The cancer full moon

Was one of endless tears

As I gave birth to myself again.

An agonising leaping from the ovary

Of Moon Mother.

When the breath comes quick and the

Extremities are cold

My heart pounds and my third eye throbs

When I wonder if I will ever be "well"

In the way that the patriarchy wants me to be

Numb to my womanhood

In the way that I remember before my thermostat

For emotion broke free

Of the factory default settings they put in me

Once and for all.

Something that is so precious to me-

There is a man who can weather storms

And can steer a ship,

Finally.

I spin and dance through the agony of my soul work

And I wonder again if I am too much, if I've crossed the line somehow and I just know

I was killed for something like this

Hundreds of years ago.

- Jenny Wren