feminism

Do Not Fear, the Women Are Gathering.

 

I wish the men could see what happens when women gather. It’s not all mindless chatter and whispered gossip. Oh no.

In between the chirping, we have been honing our craft, sharing secret wisdom buried deep within our DNA, summoning evolution from the embers of a burning world. We are not just exchanging casserole recipes around the hearth fire. We are pouring our prayers into the cauldron with a dash of salt, stirring twice, and pulling massive systemic reconfiguration out of the depths of its pregnant belly.

And while we do love the occasional half-naked pillow fight, we also love to sneak into the forest afterward, under cover of the dark moon, to fertilize the soil with our blood and the cosmos with our dreams.

I wish the men could see how masterful and well-rehearsed we’ve become at transmuting pain, grief, rage, heartbreak, shame, trauma, and cultivating discernment, confidence, sovereignty, patience.

The millennia we have spent holding the shadow, tasked with the emotional labor of the collective, do you know how strong this has made us?

Do you know how much raw power and energy we’ve been storing, amassing, silently nurturing like a blastocyst in the liquid darkness of our wombs, biding our time until we would unleash it all upon the world?

That time is now.

The rising Feminine is a tidal wave that cannot be stopped.

Do you think we came out of nowhere?

Are you surprised by the ferocity of our howl, the thunder of our footfalls as we dance this new world into being?

Do not fear.

The facade of the status quo is cracking. The mask is slipping off. The false power forcibly extracted through domination and exploitation is weak and non-renewable. It is pathetically dependent on that from which it siphons. It will crumble, and is crumbling, in the face of true power sourced in love.

I wish the men could see this.

Many do, already.

Many more will, soon.

The women are gathering, and we are a nuclear reactor of pure unadulterated life force. We will accept nothing less than the total transformation of every human heart, every institution, every culture, every nation, the entire planet, until equality, justice, peace, sustainability, and love reign supreme.

We are the life-givers and the life-bringers. We are the music-makers and the dreamers of dreams. We are the visionaries, the oracles, the channelers. We are the creatrixes and the crafters. The witches and the wise women. The maidens, the mothers, the crones.

We are shaking loose the calcified remnants of a story past its expiration date. We are downloading the exit strategy and dancing it into fruition. Our very embodiment holds the codes to unlock humanity’s higher octave.

I wish the men could see how much better this world will be for them, when we rise.

Do you not remember? When a world missing our voices made you relinquish life, limb, soul, and psyche to endless wars of greed?

Do you not remember that your physical labor, your sweat equity, your muscle that built our bridges and the skyscrapers from which you occasionally fell to your death, your health that was sacrificed in the coal mines and on the oil rigs, that none of it was valued or rewarded its due before we had an equal seat at the table?

And while we were unsafe in our bodies, our sexual vitality asphyxiated by rape and harassment and shame and commodification, our orgasms relinquished to a secondary consideration, do you not remember that you too were forced to deny and suppress your holy emotions, your grief, your fear, your vulnerability, your most intimate longings for love and connection?

As we reclaim our divinely conferred birthrights of safety and pleasure, you too are invited back into glorious wholeness.

Do not fear.

I wish the men could see that religious fundamentalism and scientific materialism are two sides of the same patriarchal coin, and that while these outdated ideologies have been cockfighting, the women have been quietly conspiring to restore the foreskins sliced away and discarded by dogma.

I wish the men could see how much their fate is bound to ours, and how freeing our voices will allow them to finally hear the clarion call of the parts of themselves they were forced to abandon.

Do not fear.

The women are gathering.

In the hidden cracks and crevices where nobody is looking, we are digging in the shadows, doing our sacred work. We have been doing the work for a long time.

Let the rest of the world be distracted by the paranoid circus of grandiose delusions and small hands making big gesticulations. While everyone’s attention is on the dying dinosaurs, the women will circle around the alchemical fire. Our fierce intention, coupled in sacred union with our committed action, will topple it all.

When women gather, our power multiplies. Our bodies sync and entrain and attune to the rhythms of nature’s flow. Our rivers of blood merge into an ocean. The slow drip of oxytocin begins to ooze, then pour, and finally flood the collective field like the fertile waters that gush down our thighs at the moment of ecstasy.

Do not fear. Our ecstasy will rain down on you too.

We will midwife the world, kicking and screaming if necessary, through the dark night of the planetary soul and into the interconnected thriving that is our birthright.

I wish the men could see that we are not waiting for you to understand or give us permission. This love train is leaving the station with or without your partnership. Though we would much rather have you on board than wave to you from the window as you fade into the distant past.

Trust us. We got this.

Let go of the need to control, to plan, to know, to rationalize. None of that will save you now.

Let go of the desire to possess, to own, to accumulate endless trappings of ego-placation. All of that is dead weight.

Let go.

Let go or be dragged.

Do not fear. The women are gathering. And we are going to turn this spaceship around.

The gravitational force will be disorienting. You may become dizzy, lose consciousness, get sucked into a wormhole.

Do not fear.

We are excellent drivers. And we are unafraid to ask for directions.

We will follow the maps entrusted to us by our grandmothers, crumb-trails we left for ourselves as little girls, the GPS inside our wombs transmitting impeccably calibrated signals from star satellites to navigate all of us home.

***

Sarah Hendlish is a grounded visionary, a deeply embodied dreamer, an officiant of the sacred marriage between spirit and matter. She serves as an anchor and vessel for the re-emergence of the Feminine through a daily commitment to fierce practice, sacred activism, and choosing love no matter what, though it doesn’t always look pretty. Her preferred tools are words, movement, ritual, food, herbs, and nature. She lives with two beautiful beings — her partner of 17 years and their son — who inject a healthy dose of Masculine energy into her life and keep her laughing at herself.

***

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