The image above is Suffragette gathering in 1913 on British postage stamp
Welcome to the Spring 2024 edition of Women Raise Our Voices e-zine.
Aloha & Welcome to Women Raise Our Voices Spring Issue!
“The smallest act in the most limited circumstances bears the seed of boundlessness, because one deed and sometimes one word, suffices to change every constellation.”
….Hannah Arendt from The Human Condition
DO WE WOMEN HAVE AGENCY?
During the Second Wave of Feminism of the 70s and 80s, which I was part of, there was a fervor and excitement as we became aware of what words like patriarchy meant, and what concepts like women being regarded as second-class citizens meant, which French feminist Simone Beauvoir made the theme of her international best-selling book The Second Sex. Burning with a desire to free ourselves from the shackles of inequality, we women began to organize ourselves to lead the fight demanding equal rights with men. We protested by burning our bras, marched for our rights to have absolute control of our bodies, demanded the right to have equal pay; the right to have credit cards and bank accounts in our own name; pointed out the sexist language that assumed the words “he” or “his” included “she” or “hers.”
It was an exciting time that also gave rise to other groups demanding to be heard; the Civil Rights Movement; the Flower Power & Hippies who wanted new ways to live together more peacefully; sit-ins by college students demanding that universities hear what they had to say and of course, the anti-Vietnam rallies and protests nationwide. Music reflected the passion of these various groups with lyrics of protest and call to action.
We the people were on fire with the possibilities of big changes across all segments of our society. Anything seemed possible—difficult yes, but possible. As feminists we took time to learn about our foremothers who fought and protested for women’s right to vote and equality, learning how many risked their lives by being arrested, going to jail and being force-fed with tubes stuck down their throats when they refused to eat or drink.
Where are we now? Do we women have agency in our current society? If not, what are we willing to do or commit to doing to help steer the Titanic-like ship we’re all passengers on as it maneuvers in these treacherous seas intended to strip women of our equal rights and control over our bodies, which has become the reality in 2024? This is not the time to be a passive bystander and certainly no time to take a victim-stance of “what can little ole me do ‘cause I don’t have any power to change anything.”
Let me be clear. I’m not suggesting that to be or regain agency as empowered women we must march, organize rallies or seek political or monetary positions of power or be influencers on social media. All of these are fine and good; however, we must realize that every woman has her own calling in which her passion and creativity expresses itself. Each of us is gifted in ways unique to us. When we come together as a collective of our diverse voices, talents, and commitment to making the world we live in a better place for everyone, we become an unstoppable force that can create amazing things! We all are Wonder Woman; mythic heroines like the Greek Goddesses or the Eastern Goddesses; Native American cultural-givers like White Buffalo Calf Woman and Spider Woman; or the statue of Lady Liberty that sits atop the White House dome! We are the countless women throughout history who did amazing things and whose names we’ll never know because we aren’t taught their stories but we stand on their shoulders.
As spiritual beings occupying a physical body, we are only here for a short time before we take our leave and transition to our next great adventure. While most of us during this lifetime won’t see our names bantered across the headline news, we still have our part to play in helping to evolve and care for our Mother Earth and each other. In recognizing our own agency and abilities to make a difference, we help and support others to do the same. In the Hawaiian language there is a word for this: Kueana: taking care of; being responsible for and giving back.
Love,
Marjorie
About the Spring Issue
The theme for this issue is WOMEN AND ACTIVISM. From the editors’ perspective, it was a challenging topic as submissions came in slowly and in fits and starts. The need for raising our voices and finding our own way to create the world we wish to live in and leave behind for the next seven generations is dire, and yet so overwhelming and big that it can be daunting. Thank you everyone who rose to the occasion and made an effort to sort through this challenging topic with perseverance. We are so grateful to have this expanding community!
Women Raise Our Voices is a fresh online quarterly platform written, edited and illustrated by a revolving collective of nine to thirteen women. It is a place for women, non-binary and female-identified creatives to share their writing and visual art. Our voices matter! Your voice matters! We want to hear your compassionate and authentic stories.
WROV Creator: Marjorie St. Clair; Spring 2024 Co-editors: Gina T. Ogorzaly and Dairne McLoughlin: Designer: Denise Weaver Ross; Learn more about us by clicking HERE.
Poetry Finalists
All I Could Give by Pamela Warren Williams
Estranged Fruit by Carol Aronoff
leap by Kate Marco
So Yes, Go Ahead and Pray for Me by Claire Reutter
Prose Finalists
Eggs, Bacon, and Quiet Activism by Andrea Penner
You’re more likely to hear me shout at a college basketball game than at a protest march, or at a politician on television than at a political rally. My brand of activism is quieter. I’m the one who will walk for miles, door-to-door, to hang hundreds of campaign flyers on door knobs, or to call hundreds of registered voters, one at a time, to remind them to vote and help them find their nearest polling place. Sometimes the world is too noisy to hear us, but it’s still a world that needs our hands-on care, concern, and expressions of solidarity.
Called to the March by Anne Drissel
The invitation was simple: “Meet me this afternoon at The Peace March encampment to do a Peace Ceremony.” I had met this mysterious Native American weeks before assisting at a Mass officiated by the soon-to-be defrocked priest, Matthew Fox. He told me the group was going to march across America “for peace” but they are “not very peaceful yet.” Hundreds of activists participated in the “clearing ceremony” we conducted. Afterwards I knew I too was supposed to join this group – late but still in time.
Essay on Activism by Dominique Mazeaud
I did not consider myself an activist when in 1986 I came together with artist eco-ceremonialist Donna Henes to collaborate on Peace: Piece by Piece. What drew us together was our shared passion for Peace. In our book, Donna and I covered the development of “creative activism” and the ordinary (supposed non-artist) people who pioneered this populist movement. We documented productive, participatory projects from all over the world, a softer, gentler approach of activism. ‘Gentle activism?’ Protest, after all, means to speak for: pro = in favor of, test = speak.
India—The Empowerment of Women Anywhere Lifts Us All by Bonnie Bassan
The cawing of grey necked crows in the streets of Kolkata harmonizes with the honking cars. Crows symbolize alchemy, the turning of metal into gold, and here, where crows abound, there is gold produced in the streets.
On my first day in India, I learned “Nandri”, Tamil for thank you. Nandri signifies openness to delight in this diverse country.
Let’s Change the Story by Grace Elena Woods
I’ve been an activist all my life. As an infant born into abuse, I learned that everything was a potential threat. I learned to watch my back, to listen and observe and question everything. I learned to fight. The seeds of revolution were being planted deep within and I was on a trajectory of spiritual activism that would guide me my entire life.
Fast forward to 2007. Anytown USA. In my 60’s, the blood burning in my veins, demanding justice, had cooled somewhat and my attention was on the cell towers. We were out there active and powerless as we watched each tower gain their permit and get built. It was devastating, illegal and protected by BIG money.
McVey by Rebecca Dakota
“Your name?
“McVey.”
“And your first name?”
“McVey.”
“Oh, then, your last name?”
“McVey.”
Once Upon a Woman by Claire Reutter
Once upon a time, there was a group of women and a group of men. They lived very close to each other, but separately. After years of mistreatment from the men, a couple of women surprised the men by attacking them one day, brutally killing several of the men. The men did not like this, and they fought back for months and months with non-stop bombing that destroyed homes and communities and killed women in large numbers. The men argued with the women and said, “We are defending ourselves from this horrific attack that the women committed against us! We have the right to exist as a separate group!”
When Tragedy Strikes—What is Mine to Do by Regina Griego
No one would wish for a tragedy like ours. My fifteen-year-old nephew shot and killed his father (my brother), mother, and three of his siblings. I took guardianship of my nephew and supported him through his legal, therapeutic, and educational journey—currently I’m his only connection to the world outside of prison. This heartbreaking tragedy was ironed flat by the media coverage. This was not a good guy-bad guy story. I knew that because I knew the generational and cultural stories behind this tragedy. I wrote a book about it. People say to me “it must have been cathartic.” Yes, I told the story as a descanso (Spanish for putting something to rest), pinning it to the page so it doesn’t rattle around in my brain and heart.
You Can’t Play by Dairne McLoughlin
That’s a refrain I heard for most of my young life growing up in the 50’s and 60’s. As a rough, tough scrapper of a tomboy, that was just a flag I wouldn’t fly by. This led to lots of trouble.
Every time I went to a playground or moved into a new neighborhood it was the same old thing: there was that one boy who said, “you can’t play, you’re a girl” as if I was unaware of my gender! Me being me, I resorted to what always seemed to change that narrative, I just hauled off and punched that boy right in the kisser, and then all the boys fought over whose team I would be on.
Art Finalists
To learn more about the art and the artist click on the image below.
Eclipse of Old Paradigms
Mixed media by Gina Ogorzaly
Orange Courage
Painting by Judith R. Robinson
Hexagram 21: Biting Through
Mixed media on panel
by Denise Weaver Ross
Spring Kitchen Corner
by Dairne McLoughlin
This is a place where we go back to our roots. To remember our kitchen medicine from those that went before us. The women that healed with their hands, food, plants and hearts. Spring is a time of growth, birth, new ideas, renewal and blossoming. Here are a few secrets from the kitchen for you.
Luscious Lemon Water.
Drink one cup room temperature water with the juice of ½ lemon juice first thing when you get out of bed. This is a gentle reminder to the liver to flush all the impurities it’s taken out of the blood at night and pass them on to the large intestine for purging.