March 4, 2013

when it matters because of two gardens

I followed a rabbit trail this morning and found something unexpected and resonant and lovely, and almost cried, near the end, but in a good way.

If you have a minute, you might tell me what you think.


  1. Would love to hear about it - what struck you? What stuck?

    What longing does this speak to?

    xo CiM

    1. History seems so very harsh and never more, in my opinion, than in the hands of bible-wielders. Guilt and requirements and submission and don't you complain because it's your own fault, woman, so stop your fussing and accept your place in this world. I'm sure the leadership of the church I grew up in would protest vehemently as to their part in this, claiming they believe in and support equality, but it is still the view I picked up in part from them.

      Wherever I turned my whole life the fault was laid on me for having been born female. Even if no sexual violence had ever befallen me, among other churchgoers I was guilty back to the garden of Eden because I was a woman and Eve was a woman and the world would still be perfect if God only had the good sense to quit while he was ahead after creating his glorious Adam. It made me sick at heart but I accepted it because it was all I knew.

      Now I long for acknowledgement, I think. That Eve was the pinnacle of creation, the most perfect and complex thing ever made, a masterpiece. That since the beginning of time, even after "the Fall" there have been hundreds and thousands and millions of amazing, excellent, worthy women who lived full and interesting and blessed lives. Who contributed to the world, or would have, if they'd been allowed. Who survived untold violence and oppression, and carried on. Who, fuck it, had their period every fucking month, suffered endometriosis, childbirth, child loss, rape, disease, and still ran their homes and lived their lives and remembered how to laugh. Or didn't.

      I like this piece of writing because it does acknowledge some of that. There are implications in it that I would like to sit with and unwrap. The part where I first teared up is where it says that a woman is a person and not a thing. It's very sad to me, that I should feel so moved to hear such a basic truth, and speaks to how far we still need to go to move toward true equality.

    2. I was grateful to read your thoughts, very; thank you.

      I do not know what church you grew up in
      but they certainly failed
      to see and act
      on your being treated as a thing
      by someone(s) who
      ~above all~ should
      have protected, loved, and encircled


      but they did not.

      Does this make God even more enraged than I? (I think so.)

      I am angry, very, that your church was complicit in the violation
      of your person-hood.

      No wonder you long for justice, for acknowledgement.


      xo CiM

  2. I don't think that I can dissect this piece of writing particularly intelligently but I did enjoy reading it. I couldn't say anything further than you have so beautifully in your response to Cathy above.

    Do you know this song, 'Woman Undone'? This reminds me of the piece you've linked to here . . . .
    you might be able to listen Mary Coughlan sing it here
    which is about Genesis and the complicity of the Deity in the undoing of woman (as I understand it anyway!)

    'Today in paradise, the word was everywhere, have you all heard what woman has done? The boss put on disguise, the slinky extra sized, just to make sure that woman's undone? Then she learned it all, where and when we fall.'

    And my favourite line, 'one angel's never bored, he's gots the brightest sword, he gets to wave it at woman undone!' Sad but true. I remember hearing this song as a teenager and having a strange feeling, like the scales falling away from my eyes, that I would always be guilty and wrong because I was female and that I didn't want any part in a world view that would cause anybody to feel that way.