Mary Jane Hammill Carter (my mom): Eulogy

I’ve been struggling all week to know what to say about my mom. It’s going to be hard for me to say anything, so I know you’ll bear with me.

My mom was born Mary Jane Hammill on September 14, 1942, in Lincolnville, Maine. Obviously that means her birthday is this week. I think she would want us to celebrate rather than mourn and in that spirit I brought a cake that she would like. I also brought some of her jewelry so anyone who would like a keepsake of her can take something home. Anyone who knew my mom knows she loved to show off her sparkly and colorful things. She also was generous to the bone and loved to share. So I think all of this will please her.

Young MJ wrote for the town paper and aspired to break into other types of publishing.

So, back to Lincolnville. My mom was raised by her mother, Hester Calderwood Hammill, largely as a single mother and with a great deal of struggle. My grandma worked hard scrabble in whatever way she could, often cleaning summer estates and other upper-class homes around the Camden area. They lived a very stoic and simple life but largely my mom had blissfully happy memories of her childhood. For a large period of time the two of them lived in a little cabin built from a modified hotdog stand someone gave them. It was situated on a steep part of the base of Mount Megunticook, only steps from Megunticook Lake. The remnants of that little cabin remain to day and my mom periodically wanted to take a drive to Camden just to drive by it, point it out, and reminisce. Though they moved into Camden Village while mom was still in school, she always thought of that cabin as her childhood home.

Her childhood memories were of simple food and fare. They ate a lot of stewed beans and bread and potato stews. She had tea parties with her cats and toys behind the cabin. She had fond memories of pounding up and down the hillsides on her bike or running up the mountains, which she could apparently do in her youth with great ease. She would fill her tennis shoes with any good berries she found on her adventures and my grandmother would turn them into pies or jams. Though my grandmother was slightly socially outcast as a non-church attending (spiritualist) single mother, my mom sought out faith. She would attend church on her own from a fairly early age, walking to services on her own. Mostly Baptist, but she attended more than one congregation in her quest to find meaning. I should note that mom’s grandmother, mom and aunties were all avid spiritualists. They would often take my young mother with them on drives to Temple Heights spiritualist camp to attend meetings (and have some girl-time, pie, and coffee on the way). My mom’s youthful exposure to a mix of religious and spiritual ideas definitely stayed with her for her lifetime. She was very spiritually open and curious, and a person of great, unshakable faith.

Despite all this youthful fun, life could also be hard and scary. Finding a future for herself was tricky. She studied hard to distinguish herself and was valedictorian of her high school graduation class. The big excitement during high school was that the Oscar nominated film Peyton Place filmed on location in Camden during those years. Mom was already an avid celebrity watcher and had cultivated pen-pal relationships with several celebrities. I brought her scrap book today that includes lots of cast photos and news clips about the film.

In the second row MJ poses with other townie extras for the movie scene about a local parade.

The story of Peyton Place revolved around a girl about mom’s age at the time, feeling constrained by small town life and aching to break free into the bright lights and excitement of New York. Mom definitely resonated with that. Like that lead character in the movie, my mom was already writing for the local newspaper and trying hard to find her voice. She was active in debate and theater and other types of extra-curricular groups. She attended at least two Christian writer’s’ conferences during high school and I have letters from her correspondence to my grandma during those. They were her big chance to travel outside Maine and meet academics or professionals who might mentor her. She was successful in that and followed one such mentor to Philadelphia for a while after high school in order to work as a secretary and pursue her writing. She married her first husband during that time, which was not a happy match. Soon she was back in Maine, looking to recover. She always came back home to my grandma during those times in life. The two were as close and she and I have been.

Mary Jane involved herself in school theater, debate, future homemakers, and religious groups during high school.

Mary Jane worked for a while after her first marriage at the fish canning factory in Rockland, and when she could afford to she went off to college (Blackburn College) in Illinois. As an older student, already having been married and worked some jobs, she became a bit of a pack leader for her friends. To be more specific, she taught them how to do automatic writing and howl at the moon. She had a lot of fun in college and still managed to achieve well academically.

After another stint at home in Camden, the next foray into the world was to New York City, where she had long wanted to go (probably inspired by the story line of the similar leading lady in Peyton Place). While in New York, living in Brooklyn, she met and married my dad, Lyle Linder. They were both working at McGraw Hill in a department that edited and distributed college textbooks. Before and during my infancy they both worked in the city and traveled around upstate as well as Pennsylvania, distributing textbooks to colleges. While they occasionally rented a place, they spent a lot of time hauling a little camper around behind a battle-scarred Land Rover. My mom went into labor with my during one of those trips. Apparently I wanted to be born in Rochester (like Susan B Anthony), but they had a hospital birth in mind. Mom grit her teeth and sat on the spare tire, so I was forced to disembark the womb in Albany. I’ve harbored the resentment ever since, lol.

Unfortunately their marriage didn’t last, and my mom ended up returning to her home, and her mom, with me. In Rockport she took a job for her attorney’s office working off some of her legal fees from the divorce and ended up staying. A long time. Her career as a legal secretary later became one as a freelance paralegal specializing in real estate title searches. She worked independently for many attorneys and firms over about forty-five years. I’m sure some of you know her best from her professional life. She was meticulous about details in research and had a magical knack for understanding deeds and maps. She was always highly regarded for her skills in title abstracting and worked across Hancock, Washington, Waldo and Penobscot counties at various times.

Mommy and me. I think I was about four.

Those who knew her from work know she was competent, deadline driven, and dedicated. She spent hours in the registries of deeds and sometimes probate, pouring over the books before they turned into computer scans. Sometimes her assistants, which would include and occasional husband and at one time myself, would join her. At the courthouse she was always cheerful and friendly, doing the lunch or coffee runs and encouraging freelancers to eat together on their breaks. She was proud of her loud and eclectic style of dressing, which often included plaids and prints and casually half-matching socks in any given ensemble, and rhinestones added on whenever possible. She always dressed up for Halloween, which everyone came to expect, and, for an extended period in the winter of 2017 proudly marched into work wearing her pink pussy hat.

At home she was an avid gardener (though sometimes the garden planning worked better than the garden itself). She was a kind heart for animals and many strays were brought to her over the years from all corners. She always remained very open and enthusiastic about eclectic spiritual and religious ideas. Despite being open to so much, she always retained a rock-solid faith in God that seemed to remain the mix of Christian Baptist and Spiritualist that she gained as a youth. Despite several hard marriages and many years of economic hardship (often when she was the breadwinner and carrying many people through hard times), she dealt with anxiety and depression, but she was always a rock. She was always ultimately positive and optimistic. She always believed emphatically in good outcomes. In the years after health complications forced her into retirement, she stayed busy at home. She kept planning great gardens that I was largely inept at executing and she helped me to write as well as edit two books. She always had more plans for the future, right up to the end. She was always optimistic and energetic in mind if not in body.

College years

Since she passed, I’ve tried to rely on her advice from the past. My grandmother helped to raise me until she passed away in 1982. A few times in recent years, my mom told me a bit of what it was like to lose her own mother. She told me that despite the other people she had in her life at the time, it was devastating. She felt like she’d lost not only her best friend, but the only person in the world who really loved her for exactly who she really was. And it took a long time for this to fade. When she first started to feel a bit better, it was because she heard a minister read the bit of Psalm 30 that says, weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Somehow when she heard it that day, she finally had the feeling that she was going to be okay. I can’t say that I’ve had that moment yet, although I’m trying because I know she wouldn’t want me to be sad. I know she wouldn’t want any of us to be sad.

Mom and one of innumerable rescues…Inka

I could talk about her forever, and I will, but for now I’m not sure what else to say, besides to reflect on her legacy. I think she is (can’t say was) the most loving, positive, sweet, generous person that ever lived. I still want her here. I think we need her. But maybe we just all need to be her. I think she’d like that. First, wear plaid with stripes and always mismatched socks. Rock rhinestones on everything. Be the person stray animals get brought to. Make the office lunch run even when you’re busy. Enjoy every holiday, every not-holiday, all the simple things, and basically every moment. Have big ideas. Believe in the basic goodness of life and of others even when bad things happen. Never give up. Never get bitter when it’s hard. Never, never, NEVER lose faith (whatever that means to you). Then…repeat. I love you, mommy.

On my dad’s birthday

Petting zoo I think. Omaha?

Today is my dad’s birthday. Still. I will always remember him on this day. The first year after his death I wandered into a United Methodist Church I’d never been in before to attend Sunday service while being given the side-eye by the regular parishioners and hearing a loud ringing in my ears. It’s gotten easier with the still-small number of years as they’ve passed, but I will always remember him on this day. Happy birthday, Daddy!

What follows is the eulogy that I wrote for his memorial service. I was in a total fog when I wrote it and likely incomprehensible when I attempted to read it. It’s probable that people who heard me deliver it that day didn’t actually receive the information that follows. Therefore, I decided it is about time to publish it in this form. To those who remember him, I hope you enjoy. To those who don’t, I hope you at least see the shadow here of someone you have loved.

Not sure where but exhibiting his rather characteristic recklessness

August 13, 2017

Lyle Dean Linder – June 9, 1940-August 3, 2017

My dad was a great minister. I think this became his calling because he wanted to keep learning all his life, and he wanted to learn what life is all about. For a boy growing up in the farm country of Nebraska in the 1950s, reading books and collecting knowledge was a highly suspect ambition. Unless you were going to become a minister. Such a noble calling was unassailable. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Dad and at least two of his close cousins became clergy. But, though he got to it in mid-life and may have picked it for convenience, as is so often the way, he still managed to find a true calling. One of the big truths that my dad seemed to discover was that a life of service to others also makes your own life much happier. He engaged in this service tirelessly. Only days before his death he was talking about volunteering at the nursing home, or in chaplaincy. So, he was a great pastor. But, he was also much more.

On the farm

My Aunt Nancy (Linder Boucher) remembers him as her big brother. He always protected his little sister and looked out for her best interests. As a boy, Lyle was insightful and intellectually curious. The extent of his curiosity and his impatience to get into the world was rather torturous for him at times. It made him restless—impatient with others, but mostly impatient with himself. One example of this might be a few entries in a diary called a “scribble-in book,” which he used at age fourteen, in 1955. I think he must have given me this journal when I was younger, perhaps in high school. In it, he offers a dire assessment of his own school work by saying: “My essay and my criticism upon my essay on Voltaire. The hideous part of it was, that this essay wasn’t hopeless—just undeveloped, raw like uncarded wool. Childish and puerile.”

Geesh, Dad. Daughterly eye roll. Actually adore it, though.

I found the scribble book on a shelf last year and I gave it back to him for his 76th birthday. He and Mary Ann and I had all met for a week in Cape Cod right in between his birthday (June 9) and Father’s Day. I gave the book back to him with the suggestion that he fill in the many blank pages. He never got around to it. Dad was interested in taking up writing—maybe a memoir or blogging, but he just didn’t get any traction on it in that final year. Perhaps, as he noted in the scribble book as a teen, he just didn’t feel like he’d landed on the proper subject matter. As he noted in ’55, “This journal is dull and lifeless, I wish I could somehow add some life to it.” Really, he wanted to add some more colorful and fulfilling experiences to his own life.

In his entire life he remained ravenous for experience. He took many certificates and degrees in graduate school and on his various sabbatical leaves. He enjoyed unusual vacations, cultural exchanges by hosting exchange students (especially from Japan), and pulpit exchanges to places like England and Northern Ireland. He toured his ancestor’s’ native land of Sweden late in life and met some of our distant relatives. Remaining somewhat fluent in Swedish from his childhood as a first-generation American, he loved for his whole life to attend Swedish heritage picnics and get fawned over by the little old ladies who loved to hear anyone speak their native tongue. This was the oldest trick in his book since he bragged to me that he’d learned young he’d always get top rung treatment if he asked the ladies for a cookie in Swedish rather than English back in his hometown region of Uehling (pronounced like eee-you-ling) and Oakland Nebraska.

Actually, this teen journal of his is pretty funny. Fourteen-year-old Lyle is preparing for a school field trip to Omaha and Fremont. The itinerary includes a viewing of a live television recording, a tour of a coffee factory, and trips to a Natural History Museum and a zoo. Lyle prepares for the trip as follows:

NECESSITES FOR THE TRIP SHALL BE:

A. Scribble-in book to record events of the trip.

B. 1 well-filled ball point pen.

C. 1 “brownie holiday” camera, loaded with the new kodak panchromatic film.

D. 1 billfold containing roughly one dollar (and I mean roughly).

E. 1 lunch box chock-full of delectable goodies (peanut butter sandwiches, Ugh).

F. My wristwatch (the better to make correctly timed entries in the scribble book).

In this journal, he does clearly walk around the museum, the coffee factory, the television studio, and the zoo (maybe the same zoo that deer pic was taken at when I was a kid…though in Lyle’s day he recorded the place as “a total flop”), his whole day he was clearly absorbed with taking meticulous real-time notes.

The trip was an important foray into the world, and young Lyle wanted to remember every moment. To me, the journal and it’s literally minute-by minute entries offers an exquisitely painful look at his intellectual impatience. He was in such a hurry to live and to learn. The entry concluding his field trip record reads, “Due to the soothing effects of a warm bath, I must succumb to a necessary evil which takes up too much of our short lives—sleep.” This zest for life was with him the whole time, as those who have known him can attest.

as a teen/young man

My dad loved to collect mementos of his daily experiences. Some he shared as gifts and many (many, many) he kept. He curated books, antiques, hats, cowboy boots, belt buckles, and bobbles of all kinds. He loved the little sayings that come on plaques for your desk or your wall. Two of the favorites that remained prominently displayed over the years were these:

YOU CAN ALWAYS TELL A SWEDE, BUT YOU CAN’T TELL HIM MUCH

BE PATIENT, GOD ISN’T FINISHED WITH ME YET.

I suppose these were insightful selections.

Lyle’s independence, intelligence, and love of life were always on display. They were traits he remained true to for his entire life. My cousins, Nancy’s daughters, offered some examples. Janet writes that she always knew him for his joyful nature, passion for knowledge and love for people. Joy remembered the time when we all went to visit their ranch in Idaho. Janet, Joy and I were just little girls. She recalls how, when they showed my dad the cabin where we’d be staying, he ran and leapt onto the bed like a kid. A grown man behaving like we would was pretty impressive to my cousins. I was used to it, and totally took it for granted.

Bladen Nebraska…July 4 and town Bicentennial or something I think. Dad loved parades and if he could borrow a parishioner’s horse, so much the better! I was riding one back there behind him somewhere. This was his prime time of rural ministry and Bladen was one of the three churches on his circuit back then.

I’ve said as an adult that my dad encouraged me to become a critical thinker and a creative communicator. He always made a point as a parent of speaking to me in vocabulary that he would use with adults. No baby talk or simplifications. Of course, that didn’t stop him from reading and re-reading my favorite picture books, like “Tubby and the Pooh-bah” and “How many kittens?” until I’m sure the mere sight of those books made him want to vomit. He’d try skipping dialogue sometimes but he was proud that I’d catch him.

Our free time together was always populated by fantasies. Especially time spent in the car. Our little orange car, which was called a Vega, became the “vamp vega” as my dad helped Daniel and I weave wild scenarios of a vampire family tooling around Atlanta, Georgia. “Vegetable soup” was a game in which the car was a pot for making soup, and huge pieces of sliced vegetables of all kinds were periodically tumbling down from the sky, threatening to crush us if we didn’t duck. We’d all take turns. “Oh, no! Here comes a carrot! A potato! Onion, my eyes!!!”

Atlanta. I hated my haircut lol hid behind the couch after it was first done.

There were running games involving space aliens, trying to figure out these bizarre humans they had come upon. And there was something about a swarm of bees. I think we were bees in our car, traveling in a swarm. All these games were extended improv sessions. Endless, really. We would drop them when we needed to and then pick them up again.

I’m not going to wrap this remembrance up in some neat and tidy way. Life doesn’t get wrapped up that way. So, like one of our improv sessions, I guess we’re done playing for now. At least, we’re done playing in the way we once knew. But, I know we’ll pick it up again.

Heaven.

Of fledgling books and hatching fancies

Hello intrepid readers! That is, if you had anything to read. Goddess, it’s been so long since I blogged. I apologize. I’ve been learning a lot about publishing here behind the scenes. It’s very interesting to watch my Spinstress book hatch from the eerie and oddly populated attic of my imagination into a real creature which has had the hands of many talented people upon it.

Now that my book is in the hands of the publishers, my job is more about introducing myself to the readers in the broader Llewellyn community. There’s a thing with writers where we can spend months or years working on a beloved project, polishing every word like a gem. Then, you ask us what the project is about and we shrug and say, “Oh, you know. Things.” So, yay! I’m going to practice on you! Thanks in advance.

Really, it’s not bad. I’ve been working on some blogs, podcast interview questions, short articles for in-house journals, and similar. It’s an exciting and interesting process, as is the process of fitting it into my busy days! But I love writing and so far I love publishing, too. Seeing the galleys and what the book will actually look like has been great. If you love work, I guess it isn’t work anymore. Mostly. But it still requires the budgeting of time.

The chapter headings are so cute! I didn’t help think that up at all but I’ve always been a sucker for a pointy hat.

In addition to book publicity I can announce that SageWoman Magazine is planning to switch my long-standing column on women and animals/nature (Child of Artemis) into a regular column more in keeping with the Spinstress book. Anne Niven, editor of SageWoman and Witches & Pagans, has provided a nice review (“blurb”) of my book for the cover and for the amazon page.

I don’t know what my new column will be titled but I have been working on ideas to give it that Spinstress vibe. It’ll be fun. I’m thinking self-esteem, glamour magick, sexual empowerment, feminism, history and general eccentric weirdness. The usual. But first, I feel like delving a bit more into said vibe for my regular supporters so you can know, at least as much as I do, what on earth I was thinking when I wrote a book on this theme.

Of course, the title “Spinstress” is detailed in the book. I sort of found it unintentionally. Mostly because the old concept of a “spinster” pissed me off sufficiently to make me want to put a ruby-slippered foot well up the ass of that particular stereotype. I think this whole wacky thing started because someone donated an “old maid” card deck to the domestic violence program where I work and I found it in the break room of my office one day. That particular set of cards had…a little accident…shortly thereafter, finding it’s way directly into the trash. Maybe.

Note that she is also on a “wheel,” “bone-shaker,” AKA bicycle. These conveyances came to be strongly associated with female independence in olden days, as a means of transportation that helped ladies get up to all sorts of things. See my previous blog for more info.

Anyhow, the “vintage” images being reprinted and called “whimsical” really boiled my tea. Of all places to leave a game that pokes fun at women who, for whatever reason, are currently or never identifiably attached to a male partner. I’m sure whoever donated it just didn’t even stop to think what the game was about.

But, this very thing is what drew my attention first to the deeply ingrained ideas about women that a game like this reflects. It denigrates women who earn their own money and otherwise assert enough autonomy to be single for some or all of their lives. Even if violence is one of the circumstances they are trying to leave behind, the cultural baggage is insidiously covert and also unrelenting. Commercials, cosmetics, churches, friends, coworkers, relatives…all too often casually reflect the idea that women who are single, at least for “too long,” have something to be ashamed about. I can say from loads of personal and professional experience that it leaves some women more willing to be with an abusive partner rather than face the terrifying specter of living for any length of time with none at all. This fear also sometimes makes women I work with more vulnerable to new predators if they recently did become single. My personal and professional opinion on all this shit is….

Hell, no.

That doesn’t work. Oh, while we’re on the topic of women, I chose to write this book using the spelling “womxyn.” I did so in order to open a door for anyone choosing to identify as such. It is still a book about womxyn and girls but I hoped to bend the binary a little more than is usually done in Neo-pagan/witchcraft books. That’s really all there is to the alternative spelling.

Yes, this set is vintage but they still make duplicate reprints. For “fun.”

The idea of reclaiming a culturally negative term is not new to witches or pagans since both of those terms have been reclaimed from the stereotypes of immorality, human and animal sacrifice, and various other forms of social or moral criminality.

Those of us who practice some magickal tradition, maybe under the umbrella of contemporary Neo-paganism, are very used to reclaiming terms that were once used to denigrate us. “Witch” is a perfect example. That moniker would have gotten you killed through most of western history and will still do so in vast regions of the globe. Yet, it came to be a term representing religious freedom and a return to nature-based religions in around the 1960s. That seems to have been thanks to the popular writing that emerged from England after their anti-witchcraft laws were repealed in the forties.

I actually think this is a beautiful image but…you get it. Margaret Hamilton.

As modern women began looking for religious traditions and beliefs that reflected both female equality and female power, feminism found witchcraft and the goddess during this same era. Witchy foremothers like Shekhinah Mountainwater, Starhawk, and Zsusanna (Z) Budapest built traditions of queer witchcraft, feminist witchcraft, and overtly political witchcraft that reclaimed both girl power and some of the best aspects of that old-time religion.

Many other words have been reclaimed by certain marginalized groups. “Bitch” is another one that I do use (both to celebrate and critique it) periodically in my book. Obviously not all members of any social cohort are all going to feel the same way about anything, including these words. In other words, some Neo-pagans or practitioners of feminist magical traditions dislike the term “witch” just as some modern womxyn find “bitch” disrespectful or offensive. Yet, pushing change onto these types of words does indeed seem to push change on the culture that uses them (often with lots of drama and blow-back along the way). Other words that have been reclaimed in this way by some members of oppressed groups (and definitely not by all) include “queer” (LGBTQ) or the infamous N-word used against African Americans, that still holds such a negative charge that I won’t even put it in print.

This take-back of words that were once tools of oppressors has multiple functions. It helps to remove that verbal weapon from the arsenal of haters. It can often help with the healing of the marginalized folk in question, and it stirs up heat on social discourse around changing old cultural tropes.

Okay, are we there yet? Yes. Here is the word I am reclaiming (or at least re-vamping…oooh, I like that. I’m definitely re-vamping.) in my magickal book. Spinster. I originally got the idea from Mary Daly in “Beyond God the Father.” She mentioned in that book and a couple of her others that “spinster” was actually a term connoting great arcane religious power. The goddesses found in several cultures who would “weave” the world we live in and our own lives were, you guessed it, literal spinsters. Daly alleged that the mythological and magickal power of the spinster archetype for women was another reason that this useful human profession became so culturally reviled. The goddess fates wove the destiny of humankind and the fabric of earth herself. Even amongst we mortals, the spinster was a self-sufficient, skilled, necessary individual with the power to turn raw materials into something we badly need…yeah. That had to go.

So, we’ve covered the bad old images but there are cool ones as well. In this project I take the approach that most of us are single for parts of our lives, if not all of them. This is great as long as we are in our authentic and powerful sense of self. Due to cultural and personal pressures not to be identified as single, we may actually find that we are afraid to relax and enjoy those portions of our lives. Even worse, we may return to a bad relationship or choose another not-great one in order to avoid that distinction. This is a shame because the very thing that can make us better and more successful in our relationships is the self-concept we build at all times, including when we are single.

Swedish screen siren Greta Garbo who never married, playing the infamous WW1 spy Mata Hari

I point this out in the book by showcasing the wonderful things womxyn in history accomplished while they were single. Some for a brief period and some for a lifetime. I discuss the brilliant theology, healing arts and music of Hildegard of Bingen. The humanitarianism and global politics of Mother Theresa. The massive star power of Greta Garbo. The brassy “on my own terms” sexual chemistry of Mae West (who actually hid her marriage for years because she thought being single worked better for her stage persona). The personal and social bravery of transgender artist Einar Wegener/Lili Elbe.

Marlena Dietrich rocking her gender-bending fashion in the 1930s.

This long-winded intro to the contrary, the book itself isn’t a his-story lesson. The chapters include topics that I hope will help womxyn (or the womxyn and girls in the readers lives) to enhance their empowerment along with their power. The book works a craft (spinstress craft) that includes self-esteem, glamor magick (glamoury), sex magick, making up, breaking up, metaphysical self-defense, financial independence, child-rearing, activism, creativity, professional ambition, ancestor magick, divination, and general witchcraft badassery.

Yes, as you can see from topics like sex magick and child rearing, there are men and boys in this book. The object of the material isn’t to “hate men,” as is so often associated with spinsters in the first place. The idea of the materials is to assert personal autonomy both in and out of other types of relationships. And the sex magick chapter is, frankly, hot.

I know I’ve already used this image but Marilyn always deserves a double take.

I’ve got a catalog of toys and tricks, including and expose of similar items going back through human history. I’ve got magick spells and meditations to be done solo or partnered. I’ve got book and website recommendations to find way, way more. Believe me, if you partner with a female-identified type person, you want her to have this book. I assert the following and you can do the research yourself…better relationships and better sex are found with independent and empowered womxyn.

Speaking of the sex magick found in this book, it can be done partnered or solo. Yeah, I said it. Self-partnering. You don’t need a partner for sex. The sooner all sexually active humans realize this, the better our world will be. Even within relationships, I feel people own a certain obligation to see to their own sexual needs (and this can be done without seeking partners outside the relationship if that’s the agreement everyone has). I have certainly seen every flavor of interpersonal carnage when this personal, sexual accountability is not the standard. Yet partly because we’re all frankly prudes when it comes to healthy sexuality, we never ever talk about this. Handing out condoms at social service agencies is great but at least a bunch of us should probably also be handing out stuff like latex lube (since oil ones destroy condoms) and vibrators. Just sayin.

Again referencing my day-job, I am sick to death of womxyn being treated as if our sexuality is some sort of devastating weapon that we as individuals are not competent to wield without oversight. I mean, it’s kind of the oldest story in the book. Who is keeping track of us so we don’t destroy civilization or allow humankind to go extinct?! Are we married soon enough? Long enough? Faithfully enough? Too many kids? Not enough? Do we partner with the right people? Are we “choosing” bad partners over our other female obligations or relationships? Are we destroying the social fabric, god’s laws or sundry other essentials by being either too sexual or not sexual enough? Inquiring minds want to know. Constantly.

Back to sex magick, spinstress style. This book will give you tons of resources to claim the sex life you want while being independent and true to yourself. Whether it’s about birth-control, toys, orientation and lifestyle, kinks and/or commitment can we please own our bodies and really decide how to live in them for effing Aphrodite’s sake?!

In the chapters detailing beauty and glamor (glamour magick), we play with all sorts of rituals and techniques to build our self-esteem. This is not fluff. Claiming your self-esteem is the same as claiming your self. Your power. Without a positive self-concept, you’re liable to have unreliable or unsatisfying magickal results (as well as life events).

The magick in the glam section isn’t all about being femme either. As Dietrich proved, it’s about being proud of yourself and allowing your own personal style glow. A lot of self-concept work, bound up with glamour magick, is to me about defeating personal fears.

Why live (or do magick) like an appliance running on corroded, sketchy batteries when you could plug yourself directly into the source? Positive self-concept is the source. It leads out into everything. It is not extra-credit. It matters.

For Hedy’s amazing story check out the documentary Bombshell: the Hedy Lamarr Story, by PBS.

In the glam chapters of the book I profile several wonderful divas from history including Hedy Lamarr, a classical Hollywood starlet (used as the original model for animated tropes like Snow White and Cat Woman). Far from a spinster (married six times), Hedy provides a great example of a woman who was single when it suited her, and always lived by her own rules.

As her side-hustle Hedy, just messing around, also invented the technology behind wireless, GPS, and blue tooth tech. Calling it radio “frequency hopping” she knew it could be used to interrupt or intercept enemy transmissions. I’m not even kidding a little.

To say she was a genius is an understatement. To say she was gorgeous would be an understatement too. Talk about beauty and brains. She invented many things as a “hobby,” and she donated the plans explaining this idea to the U.S. in order to help us win World War II. As the extra kicker she was an immigrant (Austrian, due to fleeing domestic violence) and yet lost her patent to the technology because of this act of patriotism.

Okay, she wasn’t actually single but, hey, she turned it into such a bankable concept that she pretended to be unmarried for years longer than she was.

I should note that the sections of the book typically reserved for the “mother phase” of the goddess do definitely go into parenting (for Q+ families as well), but hold space for womxyn not raising children due to circumstances including but not limited to personal choice. Alternative aspects to mothering like artistic creativity and social activism are discussed as aspects of the “mothering energy” as well.

The portions of the book dedicated to crone/elder energies deal with ancestor magick, grave-tending, collecting and working with consecrated (graveyard) earth, and many of the more typically witchy endeavors we associate with a book of this type. Also included here, however, are rituals and suggestions for owning our power and expertise in matters of career as well as family and magick.

No idea, honestly.

Okay! So, thanks for warming me up for all this publicity I’m supposed to be working on! I’m always looking to hatch some new ideas.

The actual book drops in July! In the meantime do something magickal. Befriend a wild creature, invent a new technology or work on your burlesque struts. I’ll try to write more soon!

Honoring MLK with a shout-out to African American intersectionality around Veganism…In other words, soul food.

My dad went to seminary late in life, taking on ministry as a second (third?) career. He got his M.Div. at Emory in Atlanta when I was about three through eight years old.

I do remember certain things about childhood in Atlanta. I spent a lot of time in preschool and Bible camp during the days. It was a very integrated environment and I recall being one of the few white girls at my particular preschool, since my father believed very much in making sure I had that type of experience of diversity. It was a value that I’m fortunate he had taken out of the sixties and given in at least some portion to me. My own M.Div. was earned at Vanderbilt in Nashville. As an adult I had another opportunity to really engage in dialogue (especially of a philosophical and theological nature) with a diverse student body. I bumped up against my own white privilege many ways, and acknowledge it to be an active, life-long process.

I remember from childhood in Atlanta that there, MLK Jr. Day is a very, very, very big deal. There and in the South and, I hope, in many other places, it is a holiday where people are encouraged to go out and do some public service as a way to honor his legacy.

Like Gandhi, MLK Jr. understood the connection between our treatment of other animals and our treatment of one another. Intersectionality goes back into the ancient times, and is by no means a remotely new fad.

That brings me to my own act of service. Though this is, unfortunately, not the most divisive or violent or racist period in American history, it is a pretty rocky one. As my own day of service in honor of MLK Jr., I wanted to offer this blog. Obviously (I hope), I am not attempting to speak for African Americans about this topic. I am trying to use what platform I have to push the issue out into our human system, for my readers’ consideration. I’m attaching several resources here. If you only do one thing besides read this blog post, I suggest that it be taking an hour to listen to this workshop on Uprooting White Fragility by Dr. A. Breeze Harper.

If you’ve read more than a couple posts here you also know I am a vegan. I first learned about Dr. Harper’s work because she has been a strong and leading voice about the racism of American food systems and about the intersectionality between human and non-human (animal) rights. Again, I am not the one to lead in this discussion but I strongly recommend Dr. Harper’s book on the topic called Sistah Vegan.

There are at least two big branches in this river of a conversation. One is food systems inequality and “the colonization of diet.” Or, as activists like Karen Washington call it, “food apartheid.” In this discussion our attention is called to the ways cultural diets, often more plant-based and certainly including more healthy and homemade foods, have been destroyed in the creation of junk food “deserts” where especially Native, African, Hispanic folks have very little access to fresh and healthy foods, and are incentivized (if not forced) to eat low value, low cost meals.

I’m not trying to say that no non-white cultures ate animals. We know better. But the removal of cultural, localized diets has deprived folks of the beans, grains, fruits, berries, and veggies that their ancestors lived off of far more than animal products, leading to better health and more balance in the ecosystem. Epidemics of diabetes and heart disease in these communities are exposed as another form of genocide when explored to their logical conclusion. In recent years grassroots activism like that of Dr. Harper has reached many non-white communities, and may be a reason that there are currently more African American and generally non-white vegans in the US than white ones. This, despite the common dismissal of the lifestyle as elitist, and/or an eccentricity of white privilege. A really good cookbook dealing with the decolonization of diet from a Native American perspective is this one, which all we residents of the Americas may find particularly interesting. PCRM (Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine) also puts out free resources about Native American decolonized diet, and food desert activism, etc.

This conversation can be extremely fraught because speaking about food is every bit as heated as talking about other deeply indoctrinated aspects of our lives, like politics and religion. But, the even more tender aspect of this conversation is the contemplation of intersectionality between human rights and non-human (animal) rights. Many of us as women and sometimes men have been shamed, marginalized and bullied in various social settings by being called “cows,” “pigs,” “dogs,” “whales,” “hogs,” “monkeys,” etc. enough times to understand that it can feel like a default attack to be compared in any way to other animals. This applies much more so when you have actually been rounded up, transported, bought and sold or mass-slaughtered like other animals. Yet this is the recent and occasionally ongoing history of African Americans, Jews, Native Americans, any type of refugee immigrants (especially black and brown ones), and more.

“I think there is a connection between … the way we treat animals and the way we treat people who are at the bottom of the hierarchy.”

Angela Davis

The first time I encountered the intersectionality between racism and carnism (eating other animals), it was in the book, “The Dreaded Comparison.” I was most drawn to that book because Alice Walker, one of my fave authors, wrote the introduction and described her own reasons for vegetarianism. Since then I’ve found other resources like Sistah Vegan to be very helpful in becoming more aware of all the different aspects of dietary ethics that I had no clue about when I first became a ovo-lacto vegetarian and then, in 2011, vegan.

I’m not going to go into all the aspects of these issues because the wonderful, awesome, very accessible resources I am linking in are much better than what I could ever do. I am strongly suggesting that consuming some of this information is a very important thing for all of us to consider (food pun intended). Whether we are new to considering the intersectionality, the veganism, or anything in between it’s the job of the privileged to take on information about how to bring balance and equality. This applies to our relationship with the other living beings on the planet as well as other people. There, I want to get this info out quickly so folks have time to look at it on the holiday if they have that time free. If not, it’ll be there for you later!

Resources:

Dr. Harper is a great place to start at the resources already mentioned, her website and/or her first book Sistah Vegan.

The newest issue of VegNews is devoted to black veganism in the US.

A wonderful blogging family who are African American vegans raising a fam and keeping folks up to date on tons of vegan foods and resources are: This Infinite Life. Here’s one YouTube video of theirs, introducing their cookbook, to help you find them on their various channels.

PETA info sheet about civil rights activism and vegetarianism.

There are quite a few “vegan soul food” cookbooks out now, but this is the one I own so I’ll point you over here. I also like that the author Bryant Terry adds music playlists for cooking and eating every dish. It’s called Vegan Soul Kitchen. Bryant Terry also wrote the forward to the “Decolonize your Diet” cookbook I linked up above.

Circles of Compassion is a book of essays that came out of the World Peace Diet collective and deals with racism, heterosexism, sexism, and many other issues interacting with speciesism within intersectionality.

Turn on your heart light, turn off the gas light: POTUS 45 and coercive control. Breaking up is the most dangerous time (trigger warning domestic abuse, sexual assault)

This has certainly been a sobering and scary week. Normally I don’t post about politics. I avoid it because I see value in everyone’s opinions most of the time. The problem is, what is happening now isn’t “normal.” I don’t even feel it is particularly partisan anymore and I will detail the reasons below. Take it or leave it, cause here we go.

This week has caused me to contemplate some aspects of the Trump presidency that I engaged with in 2017 and then sort of set aside during the marathon struggle to survive this whole thing. I am enclosing my 2017 essay (once contemplated as an op ed) as a sort of “blast from the past” about the antics of this guy just within his first year of office. It’s imperfect. Maybe even a tad hyperbolic. I gave up on publishing it previously for those reasons. Yet, as I look at this dangerous time we are navigating now, I do think it’s worth a bit of review. Forgive the imperfections and feel free to use them as a springboard to create something better.

In 2017 I was making a case that as rare and powerful as a US President is, DJ Trump is at his core a plain and simple “batterer.” I know, you’re thinking a president couldn’t be. Yet people with these tendencies are often very smart and successful. The myth of the knuckle-dragging cave guy doesn’t serve us here. Nor do excuses about his sanity, intelligence, age, or anything similar. He got to the highest echelons of power by being very, very competent at the tactics he likes to use.

Batterer is shorthand for someone that uses coercive control up to and including physical assault. It is not all about physicality, however. Economic control can be battery. Psychological abuse and put-downs can be battery. Battery is like a jackhammer on someone else’s soul. Violent. Exhausting. Unrelenting.

Hang in there for my thought experiment and see what you think. Like typical batterers, Trump has included as many others of his type within his close circle of enablers. While the victims of batterers are often painted as “enablers” and “codependent,” I would argue that the true enablers are the crew these folks pack around them in an echo-chamber that reinforces their sense of entitlement. It also includes the bystanders who often unintentionally let a batterer pass day by day. Coworkers, family, friends, police, judges, ministers (Attorneys General, Chiefs of Staff)…basically all of us whenever we drop our guards and fall prey to the batterer’s enchantments. Anyhow, I go into the whole kitchen sink of why I formed this opinion of Trump. Yet, I am blogging it now for a different and rather dire reason.

Police with guns drawn watch as protesters try to break into the House Chamber at the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, Jan. 6, 2021, in Washington. (AP Photo/J. Scott Applewhite)

Now that we have legally elected a new President and Trump is being shown the door, we are well within the hurt locker of the most dangerous time victims of coercive control face. This is the time when we leave them. Show them the door. Get our protective orders, family matters, security systems. When we set limits with them that they just don’t like. About 75% of domestic violence murders occur when victims try to leave. Right now, we are leaving President 45. He and his crew of enablers seem to be ready to do just about anything up to and including murdering capitol police to put us back in our places. As police know, showing up at a DV assault is one of their most dangerous calls.

Though the batterer analogy holds true for many aspects of despotism, it doesn’t travel all the way. It takes a bit more sociological (maybe anthropological) analysis to figure out how “leaders of men” can weaponize other people toward their own coercive-controlling goals. Yet it seems pretty clear that Trump and some of his powerful political colleagues have been able to do just that.

These rioters showed up at the congress carrying pipe bombs, assault rifles and zip ties under their MAGA swag. It doesn’t surprise me that the individual batterer Donald J Trump tried to break back into a house he’d just been asked to leave. What’s very worrying is that, as President, he is able to harness despotism and send in swarms of batterers of every flavor. Some are there just to spit, call names and yell. Some are there to break some shit and try to destroy or steal items of sentimental or fiduciary value. Some are there to assault. Some are there to kill.

Let’s be super clear. This wasn’t about flag waving and rhetoric. It wasn’t even about Republicans versus Democrats, though that was happening too. These seditionist thugs built a gallows on the capitol grounds, chanting “Hang Pence!” They were threatening to hang Republican VP Pence and who knows who else, if they could get hands on them. Functioning pipe bombs, assault rifles, and batches of homemade napalm were recovered on their persons and in their vehicles. Active bombs were planted at the DNC and RNC headquarters with equal malice.

These seditionists wanted to end both political parties and simply party with Trump. Heaven only knows how many would be dead if the capital police hadn’t at least slowed them down. One paid with his life and many more cops were badly beaten with crude weapons like metal pipes. Horrible, right? Yet even after this, the offenders were allowed to leave the crime scene unhindered.

Here, the discomfort our culture has with holding batterers accountable rebounds upon all of us. When robed clergy and disabled protesters were zip-tied, often carried out of that same capitol building for peaceful protests during the Trump era, these guys were escorted from the building with no apparent effort made to so much as glance at or document their IDs. What do they learn from this? Keep going. It didn’t help that Trump released a statement telling them, “We love you. You’re very special,” before all the rioters were even cleared from capitol grounds and the congress members liberated. Before the injured were even fully treated. Perhaps even before capitol cop Brian D. Sicknick was even carried forth to later die of his wounds, allegedly from being beaten with a fire extinguisher. Those who were interviewed by brave reporters near the riot expressed clear intent to do just that. Keep going. “This is only the beginning,” some proudly declared.

This CNN footage (and apparently also Bubba) shows a capitol cop posing for numerous selfies with the seditionists who just broke through barriers, smashed windows and doors, and chased one of his colleagues up several flights of stairs to the chambers of the congress where Secret Service were frantically trying to evacuate politicians including VP Pence and House Speaker Pelosi, the two next in command should the President himself be incapacitated. While I grant this may be a de-escalation technique, it is a stark contrast to tactics used against other types of citizen actions in which NO violence was ever hinted at or actually used.

“Go cool off, buddy.” How many more may pay since these offenders were allowed to leave the scene without even being documented…perhaps free to wander back onto the grounds during an event like the upcoming inauguration? With batterers and bystanders, our mercies and forbearances towards them always have unintended consequences for ourselves and/or others.

As I elaborate below, taking away the entitlement of very entitled people makes them feel like they are being attacked. Like a cornered animal they go on offense under the true assumption that it’s defense. As some of the most dangerous batterers say, Trump and his red hats are clearly telegraphing that, “If I can’t have you American Democracy, no one will.”

Oh, look. The capitol police found their zip ties when it came to subduing and arresting disabled protesters holding a peaceful sit-in about Republicans destroying the Affordable Care Act within these same capitol hallways. Photo by Kevin Dietsch/UPI
In some cases during that ACA sit-in, police helped protesters back into their wheelchairs before forcibly removing them, but others weren’t treated so kindly….
 (Jacquelyn Martin/AP)
…While rioters with MAGA and Trump swag on are helped gently down the stairs to leave, undocumented and un-detained, AFTER all the violence has just taken place. CNN footage.

As I reviewed this old essay and contemplated posting it, I saw this list of Trump’s offenses against our country and us and was somewhat shocked by how much I had already forgotten. Like survivors of battering abuse, we all may lose sight of the forest for the trees. Just surviving has been hard enough. All the minutia of daily oppression and cruelty just fades away into absence. It’s like reading a four year old protective order and thinking, “Shit. I forgot it was that bad.”

It’s that bad.

And, as we pick our way through the very lethal period of attempting to leave him…to place hard boundaries and real accountability onto a creature used to total entitlement, we have to heighten our survival skills. His acts of violence cannot be brushed off or colluded with. They will get worse. His tactics of abuse must be mitigated by the largest coalition of allies that is possible. Coercive control even against one individual victim is complex and difficult to end.

I am not quite sure how we as a country and even as a globe get ourselves out of this. Batterers are smart and adaptive in equal measure to their greed for power. Worse still is the particular factor of despotism in this case. As one Trump seditionist said to the press, “We’ll be back.”

I doubt that removing him from office will be sufficient at this point. Certainly, doing nothing and making this an argument about partisanship will be worse than doing nothing. In my opinion if we were to apply the lessons of the “normal” individual batterer, they should employ the 25th ammendment and/or impeach immediately. Yesterday. It doesn’t matter how well it works. The point is send the message that our society views his behavior as unacceptable. We’re already way behind the eight ball on this as politicians obfuscate and rioters celebrate their victories. I mean, really, people?! Just banning him from twitter ain’t gonna do it.

Leaning on the experience of domestic abuse survivors, however, I would suggest the following: Look for and lean on allies. Survivors can never be left alone to deal with abuse alone. That’s what batterers are counting on. We need coalition-building, truth-telling, and accountability at least attempted through every tool we have at our disposal. Most definitely including laws written especially for the purpose.

Communicate cautiously. Keep your head on the swivel. Brainstorm safety measures one day at a time, in the face of the offender’s equally-evolving tactics. Resist the urge to try and fix/help/excuse him/them. Even when people you respect tell you to try it. Not right now. Too dangerous. Accountability is not divisive. It’s critical. This is the time for accountability and setting limits. Not as one person. As a collective. Give him/them an inch and he/they will take the nation.

Whew! I think I’m out of steam. Just in case you don’t make it through my essay, I will add a bit of encouragement at this point. Those of us who work closely with survivors know the power and strength of resiliency. There is hope there. Especially when we all band together to do what is good instead of what is evil.

There are tools for our future. There are truth and reconciliation processes (especially important for the racism, nationalism and heterosexism aspects of this crisis), peaceful communication models, and innumerable religious resources from a diverse community of good people who are ready, willing, and able to help one another get through this. As Episcopal Bishop Rev. Michael Curry has said, “Love your neighbor,” and “we the people can perfect this union.” Or, as Republican Nebraska Senator Ben Sasse suggests, go out and shovel your neighbor’s driveway. As he said from the Senate floor immediately after the riot, “America can’t do big things if we hate our neighbors.” We can work to mend divisions even as we assure safety and accountability. They are tandem processes, and any false-choice rhetoric is, I would argue, “enabling” of batterers and also nakedly disingenuous.

As a preacher’s kid and an M.Div. myself, I feel I have to drop a little biblical encouragement. Feel free to replace it with something similar that appeals to you, of course, but this is one of my faves and I hope it helps some of you. Philippians Chapter 4 (NRSV):

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

What follows is my 2017 essay. As you look at what Trump accomplished in just the first year in office, it’s truly a wonder we’ve all lasted this long. Especially those who are more targeted by his enablers and himself due to race, religion, income, gender, sexuality, and innumerable other factors. As we enter this very dangerous period dealing with our coercive controller, let’s pay very close attention, follow our intuition, point out as well as lean upon one another’s strengths, and stick together.

John Minchillo | Credit: AP

Controller in Chief (2017)

I have worked at a domestic violence prevention program for several years. In that time, I have heard a lot of experiences. I have shed a few tears, made a lot of plans, and done a lot of analysis on this form of abuse.

Ever since the election of Donald J. Trump and his band of proxies, whom I think of as “Trumpets,” I’ve watched in horror as the United States has turned into what basically amounts to one big, abusive household.

Think about it. We know when our abuser is in bed, eating fast food and watching TV. We monitor his social media and whatever news sources we trust to gauge his moods. We whisper and cringe when he threatens brute force like mass deportations, government shut-downs, or nuclear war.

Trump and some of the Trumpets do have actual allegations of domestic abuse and sexual assault in their pasts. Yet, we don’t need to drag individual women through a debate on their claims. All we need to do is analyze how the administration uses controlling abuse tactics on all of us.

The Controller in Chief gets what he wants because he wants to be the center of our world, and he is. Love him or loathe him, we obsess over him. We must, to feel safe. We read him. We please him. We try in vain to get ahead of him. Still, we aren’t safe. We cannot control him. He’s the Controller in Chief.

Like all good abusers, ours is especially skilled at playing favorites. Those in his good graces scramble to stay there—all too happy to throw some unfortunate rival under the bus. Our squabbling makes us even easier to control. We’re doing his work for him while he pounds milkshakes and concocts fake news awards.

The Controller in Chief can deftly shed accountability. He is called hapless, incompetent, mentally ill, senile and childish in turns as we all tie ourselves in knots, trying to understand what’s wrong and how on earth we can stop it.

As much as I hate to admit it, I have come to believe that Donald J. Trump rose to his powerful position through extreme competence. He is the reigning champ at leveraging interpersonal control.  

This stuff isn’t just about women, but women happen to know a lot about it. Violence against women, like battery and sexual assault, isn’t a “women’s issue.” When I do community education about this type of control (we tend to call it coercive control), I tell folks that the “male privilege” component only applies if it applies. Men are definitely victims, of women and very often of other men. Yet, in the case of Donald Trump, male privilege definitely applies. It appears to be at least in the top three of his favorite types of oppression and predation. Therefore, for the purposes of this essay, I am going to discuss his sexism in the context of domestic violence that is perpetrated male over female. It definitely isn’t the only type of coercive controlling violence the Trumpets employ.

Even violence against an individual woman is more than “violence against women.” The abuse affects her kids, her family, her coworkers, etc. And, yes, violence against women goes beyond gender. It clearly hurts both males and females by robbing the culture of contributions by women and girls. It also robs men and boys of healthy, nurturing relationships or full self-expression. Additionally, sexism is inherently connected to homophobia and transphobia. When it’s only okay to be one gender, then no one can express another identity without oppression and risk.

The silencing, harming or killing of women robs our whole culture of the wisdom they might have shared. We could certainly use some experienced advice about dealing with our Controller in Chief.

Hopefully, with the surge of movements like #MeToo, we will get more of this benefit. In the meantime, I feel compelled as a woman, a survivor, and a professional advocate to share what I’ve learned. I’ll approach this by doing what advocates often do when we first begin talking to an abused woman. We go over some common tactics of interpersonal, coercive control. This is our way of showing individual women that they aren’t alone.

Though abusive partners are all individuals, they behave in some common ways. They believe due to cultural messages and personal experience that controlling tactics of domination are the best way to gain power.

Power is what makes them feel safe. They feel entitled to it. They feel victimized if someone hinders them in seeking it. Understanding and unpacking this helps us to figure out how we can respond. I’m thinking our country can use a little of this analysis right now.

I define these tactics as advocates usually do. Below that, I add some examples we have experienced in the past year living with our Controller in Chief. I include both his own acts and those of his proxies. Thanks to him, they are national and even geopolitical to an extent that, though inherent in a patriarchy, may be unprecedented.

Harass and Threaten: Not taking “no” for an answer. Using manipulation, nagging, threatening behaviors to achieve compliance from others. Using privilege (age, race, gender, income, etc.) to force compliance.

  • Threats to heap “fire and fury” (bombs, including nuclear ones) on nations.
  • Threats to remove funding for individuals, communities, or nations that are crucial for basic survival essentials like food, water, electricity, medical care (Sanctuary cities, Palestine, etc.).
  • Threatening to sue women who allege sexual harassment or assault.
  • Threatening to deport people.
  • Threats to sue reporters and authors.
  • Threats to fire people.
  • Threats to lock people up.
  • Demands for what amounts to a “loyalty pledge.”
  • Innumerable acts to harass the Q+ (LGBT) community, including to ban transgender service people from the military.

Intimidation: Very similar to the concepts of coercion and threat, intimidation tends to add some element of physicality. The abuser uses body language, proximity, etc. to enhance the believability of threats. Intimidation may include breaking objects, stalking, abusing pets, moving as if to strike out and then not doing it, etc.

  • Using body language, physical proximity, looks/acts/gestures to intimidate opponents at a meeting or debate.
  • Making and/or distributing videos showing violent assaults (real or staged) at a wrestling match or on the street.
  • Offering to pay the legal fees for followers who might assault a dissenter or the press at a rally.
  • Inciting proxies to the use of intimidation (like standing in front of polling stations to intimidate voters who are suspected of supporting opponents).

Emotional abuse: Name calling, outing, gossiping, and other behaviors designed to break down the self-esteem of a victim. By destroying self-esteem, an abuser seeks to destroy the sense in a victim that s/he has a right or a reason to resist. Emotional abuse can also enhance isolation when victims are embarrassed to reach out, or community members believe the gossip and shun them. Emotional abuse might include:

  • Calling names at people who challenge them, such as Crooked Hillary, Little Marco, Lyin’ Ted, Empty Barrel, Pocahontas, Little Rocket Man, Nervous Nancy, Sleepy Jo, and on and on.
  • Insinuating that a woman opponent is menstruating or otherwise “bleeding,” and that women’s blood or bodily functions are in and of themselves a source of shame.
  • Insulting the appearance of sexual assault victims, suggesting individuals not be victims because they are allegedly undesirable.
  • Calling someone’s home or community a “shithole.”
  • Calling all members of an ethnic group “lazy,” “terrorists,” or “rapists.”
  • Alleging unprovable crimes or scandals against an opponent to malign their reputation (President Obama wasn’t a US citizen, President Obama illegally wiretapped his opponent, Hillary Clinton exposed state secrets, broke campaign donation rules, etc.).
  • Saying that prisoners of war and military service people killed in action are “losers.”

Isolation: Restricting access to resources and relationships. People are easier to control when they are kept isolated. This can mean physical isolation, like being locked in a room or being kept in a remote area with no access to transportation or a phone. It is hard to push back against the control tactics of an abuser without any help. Lack of feedback from allies can also leave victims of abuse doubting their own thoughts or their own take on reality in the face of an abuser’s constant lying and denying. Abusers want to be the only voice in their victim’s head. In other words, they want to control the narrative. Isolation might be:

  • Cutting people off from basic needs after a catastrophic storm (especially when they live on an island).
  • Manipulating or censoring media to limit communication and distort information.
  • Building walls.
  • Banning entry to the country of certain people based on race or religion, even if they’ve been living here and had only been traveling abroad.
  • Ignoring or disabling infrastructure (roads, bridges, mass transportation).

Minimizing, denying and blaming: “Why don’t you have a sense of humor?” “It didn’t happen that way.” “You’re the one who started it!”

These are core tools that controlling people use to avoid accountability. Theoretically, the abusive person doesn’t need to change because nothing is their fault. Through these skills, they can cultivate their persona of helplessness and haplessness. This is often confused with childishness. When the most in control, they seem “out of control.” Their victims often feel the need to caretake them.

With Trump and the Trumpets, this tactic might include their skill at deflecting attention from their abuse tactics at key moments. It includes lying. Abused women sometimes call this tactical lying a “crazy-making” behavior. The lies can be about such finite and ridiculous things, their victims and concerned bystanders are left scratching their heads. What could the motivation be? The answer is—control. This type of lying is a powerful control tactic. It is an act of domination. The abuser is saying that it doesn’t matter how big or how small the issue is—what he says goes. He literally gets to define reality, like a god. It doesn’t matter what reality is. We all have to wait and listen for his take on it before we can make our plans and proceed. Yet again, the controller, through the use of lying, becomes the thermostat in the room.

The term “gas lighting” comes from this type of coercive control. It stems from a Victorian era play that became an Academy Award nominated film by the same name. In the story, a homicidal gold-digger marries a rich heiress, then slowly seeks to drive her crazy so he’ll have an easy story for her sudden tragic death whenever he finally finds the treasure he thinks she’s got hidden somewhere. In the story, messing with the (gas) lights in their Victorian home and then telling her he didn’t touch them is one of his many creepy tactics. Hence, the name. Nothing is too small or insignificant when you are trying to deny your victim’s reality. In fact, the devil is literally in those details.

MGM Films 1944

Minimizing, denying and blaming could also be called deflecting, obfuscating and misdirecting. Personally, I’m not buying that he’s a “very stable genius.” But, if our Controller in Chief has a superpower, skill with these tactics might be it. 

Due to their complexity, I felt the need to break the categories up:

Minimizing: Making light of abusive acts. For instance:

  • Lying in over 2000 documented cases as of January 2018 about matters large and small.
  • Saying that sanctions against Russia aren’t necessary.
  • Saying that legislative protections of the Special Prosecutor are also unnecessary.
  • Saying Russian interference is overblown or may not have happened at all and could instead have been perpetrated by “some 400-pound guy in a bed.”
  • Saying women who accuse them of sexual assault or harassment are liars and probably only out for a payday.
  • Saying the storm Maria in Puerto Rico was nothing compared to Katrina in Louisiana.
  • Calling the members of racist, sexist hate groups “very fine people” and saying their acts of violence are the fault of “both sides/many sides.”
  • Update: suggesting that to hold Trump in any way accountable for the actions of his followers who attacked the capitol January 2021 would be needlessly unforgiving and divisive.

Denying: Saying something didn’t happen at all. For instance:

  • I repeat—lying in over 2000 documented cases as of January 2018 about matters large and small.
  • Calling any journalism that doesn’t serve their purposes “fake.”
  • Calling the content of the “Billy Bush” tape mere “locker room talk” (a minimization), but later claiming this documentation was faked (a denial).
  • Denying statements made both on and off camera, such as calling other countries “shitholes” or expressing a repetitive pattern of kissing women without permission.

Blaming: Shifting responsibility for controlling/abusive acts. For instance:

  • Saying the previous administration caused any problem that is being manifested now (immigration issues, environmental concerns, infrastructure decay, unemployment, etc.).
  • Issuing vague memos full of innuendo meant to attack the integrity of federal investigators.
  • Saying that opponents (Democrats) cause shutdowns, refuse to pay the military, refuse to act on DACA or CHIP, etc.
  • Calling investigations into his/their own possible criminal acts (like money laundering and obstruction of justice) “Witch Hunts.”
  • Saying (African) American soldiers killed in the line of duty “knew what they were getting into.”
  • Saying he/they lost the popular election due to illegal voting (mostly by immigrants). (remember, this was 2017 and being said about the 2016 election!)

Using children: The use of children in the Power and Control Wheel specifically refers to the use of vulnerable members of the family as pawns or, I might say, “hostages.”  It typically includes threats to harm children, threats to take sole custody of children, or perpetrating direct abuse of children.

Despite this traditional emphasis on custody and parenting, this tactic can still play out in culture wars and in politics by:

  • Withholding funds for the Children’s Health Insurance Program (CHIP).
  • Withholding legal protections for those formerly covered by the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA).
  • Using women’s reproductive rights and as a wedge issue in other pieces of legislation, and as a “dog whistle” to rally sexist Trumpets into their base of support.
  • Update since this was written: Separating refugee children from their parents at the US Border and interning them and/or moving the children into undisclosed placements all over the US (never even seeking to reunify in over 600 cases as of 2020).
  • Additionally, sterilizing women in these US internment camps without their understanding or consent.
  • Deporting US immigrant parents while leaving their US born children behind.

Using male privilege: This isn’t simply about a case where the abuser can say, “I’m a man and you’re a woman.” Use of male privilege can be subtler since we all live in what remains a cultural patriarchy. Yet, in the Trump administration, numerous examples of the good ole’ boy form of sexism abound, including:

  • Calling women who run for office “nasty.”
  • Shaming women for bodily processes such as menstruation.
  • calling women out individually based on age, intelligence or appearance to intimidate them into silence/compliance.
  • Grabbing, kissing, restraining, assaulting, verbally humiliating women and saying that, “when you’re a celebrity they just let you do it.” 
  • Calling out these women in national media if they resist, threatening to sue them, etc.
  • Cultivating the culture of male privilege by attacking women’s reproductive autonomy.
  • Creating a dangerous cultural environment for girls and women by encouraging and protecting other sexual harassers and predators.
  • Exploiting the voices of women and girls who feel convinced or compelled to support patriarchy.
  • Saying that men who sexually abuse underage girls “just like them (female sex objects) pure.”
  • Engaging in the trafficking of girls and women for sex (see J Epstein).

Economic abuse: Controlling someone’s decisions and actions by blocking their access to money and other similar resources. Economic abuse typically includes controlling the victim’s ability to pay for housing, food, medicine, transportation, etc. If the victim wants access to these resources, s/he  must comply with the abuser’s wishes. Tactics include:

  • Threats to remove funding for safety-enhancing programs such as police equipment, traffic lights, etc. in sanctuary cities.
  • Enacting a tax bill that shifts wealth from poor to rich.
  • Removing health benefits.
  • Eroding or de-funding “safety net” entities like rural hospitals, substance abuse, sexual/domestic violence programs, TANF, homeless shelters, immigrant resettlement programs, etc.
  • Removing consumer protections to serve the interests of banks and other corporations.
  • Firing individuals for not taking a “loyalty pledge,” sometimes days before they qualify for retirement benefits.

Assault: This could include hitting, pushing, restraining, biting, scratching, burning, sexually assaulting, attacks with weapons. Physical and sexual assault often occur when the other roster of tactics are no longer as effective. Remember that these more easily criminalized, less socially-accepted behaviors hold more risk for the abuser. Most, therefore, know that these tactics should be used sparingly. Actual assaults might be comparable to punctuation marks over the course of a running relationship story. They tend to be used only when they are needed to make it clear to victims that the other tactics should be obeyed. They include:

  • Attacking opponents or encouraging proxies to do so (update: as in the case of the capitol invasion of 2021).
  • Physical assault, sexual assault, murder (like mowing down counter-protesters at demonstrations).
  • Deploying unidentified federal “troops” in unmarked cars to arrest, interrogate, sometimes assault citizens engaged in permitted protests.
  • Update: Tear-gassing peaceful demonstrators in order to dangle a Bible upside down near a church recently vandalized, allegedly by his own proxies.
  • Missile strikes.
  • Military or police action (such as urging police, “Please don’t be too nice” when making arrests).
  • Grabbing women by the genitals.
  • Pinning women against walls and kissing them without consent.
  • Groping women’s bodies without consent.

The first time that survivors come into a domestic violence prevention program and talk about these patterns, they are often overwhelmed to see this reflection of what they thought was just their own isolated reality. You may feel that way, too. It’s also normal to get angry. What are we supposed to do?

Just saying “no, stop” to a controlling abuser doesn’t help much. In fact, it often makes things worse as the abuser feels the need to double down. If we had been really listening to the voices of survivors, our culture would already know this.

Loosening the hold of an abuser takes help. It takes support. It takes a society that not only creates but maintains checks and balances to push back against coercion and violence. Resistance is multi-faceted and it’s not a one-time thing. 

Perhaps one thing we can do as a culture is listen to the voices of survivors. This has started with #MeToo and Time’s Up. I think we might listen a little bit differently now that we understand that we are in an abusive relationship too. When you pour poison into a stream, it poisons the whole landscape. Controlling abuse does the same thing to a society. We’re all dealing with the Controller in Chief, whether we voted him into office or not.

Listening to survivors may help us understand that we are experiencing a deliberate assault, that we are not alone, and that there are ways to take back at least some control over our lives. With information and teamwork, we can improve both our own lives and the lives of those depending on us. I realize that this type of power and control analysis is not the only thing we need. I do think it’s an important piece of the puzzle, and that this piece is largely missing.

Tired of watching the morning news to see if it’s a good day or a bad one? Are you feeling crazy—questioning your own reality as you’re inundated with multiple conflicting versions of every single event? Been called lazy lately? A criminal? Nasty?

It’s toxic and exhausting, no doubt. At least, you know you aren’t alone. To survive this dangerous and gaslighting relationship with Trump and the Trumpets, we’re going to need a lot less “hail to the Chief” and a lot more “time’s up.”

*Material about power and control is taken from personal and professional experience, as well as The Power and Control Wheel developed by Domestic Abuse Intervention Programs.


For anonymous, confidential help available 24/7, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY) now.

conjunction junction (astrology and the magickal arts of cleaning while NOT burning down your house)

Greetings, fellow travelers. Nothing like showing up late and making a scene. Sigh. It’s been a while since I’ve written here, but at least I have an excuse (a good one, at least in my own mind). I did manage to turn in the draft of my upcoming book, Spinstress Craft. In the process, my editor at SageWoman has decided to convert my column into one more along the themes of the book…magick for independent womxyn. So, I’ve been brainstorming on that topic. When the relaunch of the column is more solid I’ll shout out. For now, my upcoming piece in the next issue is still themed about women and other animals (“Child of Artemis”).

In the meantime, life has rocketed on without me. This has been one hell of a year. Who could have known even one year ago what we would be facing? Even as a vaccine for this particular strain of COVID starts creeping out into the countryside, we know this will take a long time to heal. That’s not even mentioning how many loved ones have been lost in our midst, and the risk that remains. For those who turn to Biblical inspiration, I highly recommend Psalm 91. All of it. It specifically speaks to protection from seen and unseen threats, including “plagues.” Sure, it yangs when it should’ve yinned about god covering us with “his” protective wings (clearly the action of a mother bird). Sigh. Grumble. Yes, I was that kid in Sunday School. Still, it’s got angels. It’s got dragons (depending on the translation you’re dealing with, like KJV). What’s not to like? Think of me while you’re reading it.

I can’t believe it’s the holiday season. But it is, and there is a massive astrological phenomenon I feel like I should take time to contemplate. This is, of course, the “great conjunction” of Jupiter and Saturn as they leave Capricorn and enter Aquarius. The closeness of the two planets is going to be visible in the night sky, creating what some call “the Christmas star effect.”

December 8, 2020. Location: The Dark Side Observatory, Weatherly, PA, USA.

Please note, I am not an astrologer. I don’t fully understand all the intricacies of my own birth sign, let alone the constant dance of the planets and stars or how they affect little ole me. I don’t even know all the lyrics to The Fifth Dimension’s song. Yet even someone who doesn’t know much about cars is going to notice if a parade of stretch limos rolls down their street. The astrological occurrence we now find ourselves in is an even bigger deal.

This event is a “conjunction” where the planets Jupiter and Saturn align really, really close to each other. In the first degree. In Aquarius, on winter solstice. The two planets are going to look like they are pretty much bumping into each other. Or, you know, going out for drinks. This happens more often with our moon and the planet Venus. Those two have a long-term regular thing. With Jupiter and Saturn, they flirt without closing the deal about every twenty years, seeing what’s up. But they don’t get together like this very darned often.

The last time this occurred was in the year 1623. The next time will be in 2080. I don’t think either of these events will occur on a solstice. In other words, it’s pretty damn rare. Other than that, what might it mean?

Here’s the part where you have to remember I play it pretty fast and loose with astrology. But, as a magickal practitioner, I have some basic ideas. Here’s what I think.

Here’s the deal. Jupiter is a planet of opportunity, manifestation and abundance. Saturn is the planet of the purge. Shadow work, cutting stuff off, getting rid of what doesn’t serve you. Together they make one big ass crisis/opportunity or crisitunity (for Simpsons fans). If you put them in the right order you can cut off and purge out what doesn’t serve you, then draw in what you dreamed of to fill in that open space.

Since this is occurring in Aquarius, an air sign, a lot of the action is going to be in the mental plane. Many believe this is also the beginning of the great “Age of Aquarius” in which we exit the age of Pisces, themed for the sacrifice of the rising and resurrecting god and enter Aquarius, age of spiritual openness, justice and equality. It’s interesting to note that there was indeed a similar conjunction around the time of Jesus Christ’s birth, which was believed to kick off said age of Pisces. The “Christmas star” followed by the Magi was an astrological event similar to what we will see in the sky over the next few days (around December 21). While these great ages of planetary history can’t be pinpointed, folks believe we are indeed going to be heading into the age of Aquarius, where our wars and political upheavals and hate crimes against one another (across species as well) are supposed to recede into something more just and kind. Here’s hoping.

Anyhow, back to the conjunction. All witchy folks know the mind is the most important magickal tool. “Energy follows thought,” as the Hermetic principles state. So, the extra mojo for our mental manifestations should be great. What we have to watch out for is the purge. We’ll be confronting low self-esteem, anxiety and addiction. We may face depression, insomnia, and generally feeling like shit. Some of us are considering all of 2020 that kind of process. It sure did feel that way.

Frankly, a grand conjunction is a bit of a diva.

Perhaps it will help to see this personal “purge” as housecleaning of that physical attic known as the brain. Any tools you already have to cope with this stuff, have them primed and ready. Exercise, meditation, affirmations, music, time with friends, lovers, mani-pedis, pets…whatever. Just be careful not to use coping that accidentally fuels your addictions.

Once you get through the purge, really think consciously about what you want to rent out that vacant space for. It’s the perfect time for those good ole New Year resolutions. Start thinking about them now! New relationship? New home? New job? More reciprocity? Better self-esteem? Make your lists.

The energy of the Winter Solstice, AKA Yule, will help you even more. The energy of the entire conjunction is already at play in this ancient holy day that millions of people still pour collective energy into.

First comes the longest night of the year (shadow/purge). Then, the days begin lengthening again. This is why the yearly milestone is celebrated as the “rebirth of the sun,” later Christianized as the rebirth of the son (Christmas). The return of light is seen as the return of all the other good stuff. Hope, peace, warmth, love…you know the drill.

Photo by John Williams

Okay. Now for some practical advice. Part of my own experience of this purge energy has been literally to throw out or donate tons of stuff. I’ve been working at this for weeks. I’ve found it helpful to do periodical energy cleansings as well. I thought you might find these helpful during this crisitunity conjunction. Cleaning our environment is grounding. Grounding energy will be good for us to balance all that mental activity going on due to Aquarius. I mean, I think. Hey, at least you’ll come out of it with a clean house or car or what have you.

Besides physical cleaning is metaphysical cleaning. There are many options for this. In fact, I include several in my upcoming book. For now, let’s stick with really homespun stuff. Two of the basics are a spiritual/magickal floor wash, or burning an incense/smudge. If you do a lot of cooking you may already have everything you need to at least experiment with either of these techniques.

I’ll start with the wash. It may seem like a strange idea but think it over. You already know the value of cleaning and polishing areas of your home. Some of us value this more than others, but you get my drift.

You also probably know the value of a nice brewed beverage like coffee or tea. Many of us drink teas based on what herb they contain because we know all plants have a different purpose.

Okay, we’re there. A magickal wash is like a tea that you use to clean and bless your house. I keep calling it a floor wash because that’s my bias but you can use it to wipe down windows, doors, and just about any surfaces you want.

The typical advice for a floor wash is this: boil the dry ingredients in about a quart of water before straining into a clean bucket. It’s a lot like making tea. Keep them boiling at least twenty minutes. If you go longer, you will have a stronger scent but you may also have to add more water. Keep an eye on it. After boiling let it set a couple hours before straining.

From there, you can add optional ingredients like a quarter cup of white vinegar and perhaps some rose water or “Florida” water. You could add a few drops of an essential oil if desired. I like to drip in a tiny bit of hydrangea oil. This is a powerful little posy old timers used to break curses.

herbs for a quick floor wash right from my kitchen include sage, rosemary, astralgus (angel) root, salt, and juniper berries along with the perfunctory cinnamon stick.

So, dealer’s choice and you’ll probably create your own signature floor wash if you like the idea. I tend to omit the vinegar. Remember, your floors and surfaces should really already be clean in the normal sense of the term. This wash is for energetic cleansing. You may want to wipe down the doorways to the home entrances and perhaps important rooms, like your boudoir. Then go to it mopping the floors. I keep a separate mop for this and replace it often, so it’s always a very cheap model. Same with the buckets unless you want to invest in good stainless steel. You can also put some of this blend in a spray bottle to help clean windows, other surfaces, or rugs.

Here’s a good starter recipe for a floor wash.

1/4 cup dry white sage or bay leaves

1/4 cup dry basil or mint (or a mix of each)

1/4 cup dry rosemary

1 tsp salt

1-2 cinnamon sticks

ten drops hydrangea, orange blossom, or rose absolute oil (optional)

If you’ve been dealing with some extra nasty energy, like if you feel you are being hated on in a mundane or magickal sense, add up to a teaspoon of pepper, either black or red (or mix). Juniper berries work for this also. You may even wish to do this extra step if you work in a high-stress environment (like medicine, social justice or crisis work…present company included) and feel you are bringing other people’s energy home. When you’re a compassionate soul those clingy negative vibes can be hard to kick.

a collections of oils can always come in handy. you can also mix them into DIY batches, as I did in that glass container. styrax, by the way, is basically pine pitch.

You can do substitutions or omissions in a pinch. When you’re working with energies, your thoughts/intentions are the most important thing. As this brew is boiling, you can really improve its magickal function by saying a mantra over it periodically while stirring for a minute or two along the lines of, “May my home and my family be perfectly protected.” AKA praying. AKA casting a spell. I should note, there are magickal floor washes for sale on line, just like incense and smudge and absolutely everything. Not only is it more economical to make your own, I feel it increases the power of the tools because they are more connected to your own energy. But, here is a good floor wash I have bought before from a seller I like to support due to her work on the angelic realms.

Okay. Say you’re done with all your washing. Maybe you weren’t into that at all. Either way, another great step you can take involves burning an incense or smudge. Smoke is associated with the air element in magick just as often as the fire element. You see the smoke hanging in the air, after all. Therefore, it’s a great tool for working with the air element of Aquarius.

Many cultures have used a form of smoke/fire magick for purification. Nothing says purification like burning unwanted shit into ashes. Of course, we don’t have to go all-out. All we have to do is smudge!

A lot of the power of smoke has to do with our powers of scent, also. We all know that scents can change a mood. Fresh baked cookies, freshly laundered blankets, our favorite perfume, and more.

To keep your energy cleanse super simple, you can use a stick of incense in your fave fragrance. Palo Santo wood has also become popular. It’s like burning a really fat match. You can find it really easily online.

For me, a bundle of herbs for smudge is the way to go. It’s also a relationship to a certain kind of plant. As such it is even more grounding in the earth element. Grounding into earth always helps with personal safety. No trauma, no drama, no other-people’s-shit. The smudge sticks shown here are mugwort and sage.

Burning smudge takes a little practice. It’s probably a bit like having a giant cigarette to deal with. You want to have an ashtray of sorts, and probably a cup of water in case things get out of hand. After you snuff it out you want to keep an eye on it a while to make sure it doesn’t reignite. I always keep mine stored in a fireproof cup just in case. There’s very rarely any problem. Once is a while I do notice it’s smoking up and tamp it out again.

If I haven’t scared you out of it, you can buy smudge sticks at metaphysical shops or make them yourself. One of my best friends, Gwen, makes them every year. I really respect her earth magick so I asked her advice. She said she likes to harvest and wrap them with twine or thread on a full moon. The same way I suggested you think a prayer or mantra while stirring the floor wash, she says she makes sure to visualize the work she wants to do with these smudge bundles while she is wrapping them. She then hangs them to dry in paper bags. I will have to ask her to do a tutorial on this next summer, when you could actually go outside and try it. I believe she made me the mugwort bundle in this photo.

I also burn a lot of homemade incense that needs to be sprinkled on coals. You can buy these types of little coal discs from the shops that sell incense. For me, using some coals from my woodstove is easiest. I therefore tend to burn the stuff only in winter. What I have pictured here is red willow bark, which is also called sacred tobacco (AKA Nespihqamq) by the Wabanaki first nations folks here in the area. It’s a protective, calming herb that can also be inhaled (smoked) to combat stress and insomnia. I have only used it as a smudge. It’s protective like sage and has a milder scent. It’s kind of like very mild pipe tobacco as an overall effect. If you have sage in your kitchen, remember you can burn it over coals and get the same effect as a smudge stick.

clockwise around the floor wash ingredient are sage, mugwort (the long skinny stick) and a dish of red willow bark.

So, that’s about all I have for grounding and centering while we wait for 2020 and this grand conjunction to work their collective boot out of our nether regions. Despite all of this, I do wish everyone who reads this a peace filled respite at the holiday season. May we all emerge to an increasingly better world which we have populated with all our dearest wishes and dreams. Much love.

Women in Horror (Horrifying Playlist)

Theda Bara publicity shot for the first “Vamp” movie on the silent screen, “A Fool There Was.” For more info on the vintage vamp and her commentary on male fragility, see my prior blog.

Greetings, readers and writers. I’ve continued thinking about National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). For me a big part of writing is listening to “mood music.” While you get dolled up (Bride of Chuckie doll), you may want to sample these tunes.

Collecting and enjoying the right music for every story that I spend a lot of time on is a big part of my process. This is also sort of a watchlist because I like to curate songs from television shows and movies.

Another thing I do with soundtracks, particularly when writing, is arrange them based on the mood they evoke. I don’t want my sounds switching from ass-kicking to serenade in the middle of a scene.

In case you need some holiday music or you’re writing horror for NaNoWriMo, I decided to hit the web and put together a quick list of faves. This collection starts out really hard-core and moves toward noir moody. At the end, however, I had to throw in a little extra Halloween bonus.

Edna Tichenor as “Arachnida, the Human Spider,” in Tod Browning’s The Show (1927).

I could wax poetic about this but I let this go so close to Halloween that I’m just gonna shut up and post. Here’s a description of the songs though, especially if you prefer to find them elsewhere.

  1. Bloody Creature Poster Girl, by In This Moment. No soundtrack but my own. This is a theme song for some of my more…erhm…assertive heroines and villains.
  2. System: Chester Bennington. From the Queen of the Damned movie soundtrack (Anne Rice). Rest in power, Chester Bennington (and Aaliyah).
  3. Spookshow Baby, Rob Zombie
  4. Before I’m Dead, Kidneythieves
  5. Opheliac, Emile Autumn
  6. Death is the Ultimate Woman, Monica Richards…plus
  7. Bonus live performance of #6. Awesome.
  8. Teeth, Lady Gaga (possibly the most terrifying video but it may just be me).
  9. Chest Wide Open, The Revivalists (I first heard this on Santa Clarita Diet, LMFAO funny zombie series. Well, also disgusting, of course.)
  10. Angel, Massive Attack
  11. House of the Rising Sun, covered by Lauren O’Connell for American Horror Story: Coven (the only AHS I really liked. I’m so predictable).
  12. Black Magic Woman, VCTRYS
  13. Human, Sevdaliza
  14. A Little Wicked, Valerie Broussard
  15. Ghosts, James Vincent McMorrow
  16. Libera Me, from the Interview with a Vampire Soundtrack by Elliot Goldenthal

Okay, time for a fun couple of Halloween extras:

  1. This is Halloween (from Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas) covered by Marilyn Manson.
  2. Wrong Bitch by Todrick Hall (featuring Bob the Drag Queen). Todrick does a lot of videos spoofing pop culture, drag queen style. He also choreographs a lot of Taylor Swift videos, which ups her cool factor about 200%. I double dog dare you to watch this any fewer than a dozen times. Two dozen if you’re the wrong bitch. Fab.U.Lous.

Have a happy Halloween and a terrifying NaNoWrimo. Wash your hands, watch your back, and never ever talk to pallid, hungry looking strangers.

Roots and Wings: National Novel Writing Month, Ancestral Voices, and a word about Ramshackle Houses

ca. 1900 — Woman Reclining at Desk Next to Typewriter — Image by © CORBIS, Getty Images/Library of Congress

Greetings, fellow humans! I’m happy to report that my second draft of “Spinstress Craft: Magick for the Independent Witch” is in to Llewellyn! Apparently it has moved on to a new editor through the production team and soon I’m sure I’ll be complaining about more edits. For now, though, I’m taking the win. I’ve also turned in my latest column to Sage Woman Magazine. No spoilers!

This blog is going to be about writing. Not only my own, but the writing of as many people as possible. November, after all, is National Novel Writing Month (shortened by devotees to NaNoWriMo).

NaNoWriMo is about empowering the voices of anyone, young or old, to write. As defined on their website:

National Novel Writing Month began in 1999 as a daunting but straightforward challenge: to write 50,000 words of a novel in thirty days. Now, each year on November 1, hundreds of thousands of people around the world begin to write, determined to end the month with 50,000 words of a brand new novel. They enter the month as elementary school teachers, mechanics, or stay-at-home parents. They leave novelists.

NaNoWriMo is a free community resource which helps anyone at all to become “a writer.” Or, as dubbed in that community, a “wrimo.” I publish this now in order to help spread the word because now is the time to prepare an outline and get ready for the November wrimo sprint.

NaNoWriMo is a great movement that seeks to empower young writers, self-doubting writers, and writers who never thought they had the “right to write.” This part is a big deal. People with the most privilege have always defined what is “good” writing. By privilege I mean, among other things, the education, writing time, and frankly the audacity to think their voices should be heard. They also tend to possess the peers who will support and validate their writing and academic structures that normalize their voices.

The women I admire as ancestors wrote up against that pressure. I’m talking Mary Wollstonecraft and then her daughter, Mary W Shelley. I’m talking Margaret Cavendish, Jane Austen, Charlotte Perkins Gilman and Louisa May Alcott. Among others, of course. Even J.K. Rowling pushed back against domestic violence, economic challenges, and a publishing world that saw her books as unmarketable when she first got started.

I’ve studied all these authors and I noticed that more than half of them referred to their writing as “scribbles.” While I’m sure they were being modest, I’m pretty sure there was something else at work. I feel they knew in order to “earn” the support of the men in their lives (personal and publishing) that they had to diminish their work and pass it off as less than the “real” writing of heteronormative upper class white men.

Now a days, cis-gender white women have more writing privilege. More, unfortunately, than people who are trans-gender, q+, not white, or differently-able bodied. So on. Who gets to write and who gets to be read is always a bit of a rigged game. It is precisely that loaded cultural deck that NaNoWriMo is trying to replace with a fresh stack of literary opportunities for everybody else.

Readers, let me tell you a secret. Sssshhh, lean in.

This time of year, writers are all around you. Local libraries and book shops often open up special times for wrimos to come write together or simply enjoy the encouragement of being acknowledged for their efforts. NaNoWriMo is sort of like the magical world Rowling created for Harry Potter. You don’t even see it if you don’t think to look. The normal landscape of mundane life is secretly draped with dragons, fairies, time-travelers and knights. Thousands of writers crank out fantasy, horror, romance, memoirs, chapbooks of poetry and plays.

November, once you know about the wrimo community, is a great time to feel encouraged as a writer. I’ve taken part three different years. The one wrimo draft I did that became a published book (so far) is Revenant: Blood Justice. Yep, that was a NaNoWriMo book. I also did a full length juvenile sci-fi manuscript during another year that I haven’t marketed. The third year, I didn’t finish. I had an idea for a fantasy script, probably for young adults, that I did all the October prep, character sketches, and outlines for. Once I got into November and started writing, though, I realized the first couple of chapters were all I really had to say! Living with characters and their story as intensely as you do during NaNoWriMo is like going on a cross-country RV trip with a dozen or so strangers. I decided I couldn’t take it. As a result of doing the prep, though, I still had a very productive November. I ended up writing a couple of scripts and short stories instead. So, I’d suggest any writer who plans to try it just go with the experience and allow yourself to be creative in whatever way organically happens.

I don’t know what it will be like during the pandemic, but this November event usually involves coordinated opportunities for the writers to meet both virtually and within their communities. Readings, workshops, and peer support are offered. I once went to my local library to write during a NaNoWriMo designated time, and I seemed to be the only one there. At first I was discouraged, but my goddess. The librarian was as delighted to see me as if she’d just found a unicorn leaching the wifi in the periodical wing (which unicorns in fact frequently do). She hovered over me in both a flattering and rather disconcerting way. She even served me a cup of tea. In the middle of the library. No kidding! That’s the kind of encouragement writers can get if they come forth with their aspirations during November.

Besides moral support, NaNoWriMo is helpful for aspiring writers who want the accountability of a community and even a deadline. You definitely want to practice writing for a deadline, even one self-imposed, before you ever try writing for a legally-contracted one. It’s a great way to learn how you engage with that process. I find it often varies from project to project. Of course, it also gets impacted by the rest of your life. What I can tell you, as I shared recently with a fellow author, writing for two deadlines at the same time when I had a lot else going on and wasn’t really “feeling it” was akin to shitting glass. I think. Never tried it. I’m a writer though, so I sometimes embellish rather recklessly. And digress, as I intend to do right now. Perhaps moved by the sound of October rain pounding and rattling my roof tarp, I feel moved to discuss the literary advantages of a rickety country house.

There are certain charms to living in a slightly derelict house. Especially, I suppose, if you are a writer. My own MFSH (mortgage free shabby house or, when I’m angry about repairs, mortgage free shit hole), has many charms. I tap the maple trees each year (getting a bit better at it with the help of friends each time) and the shelves in the cellar stairway are crammed with preserves. The place has interesting cubbies and closets. The foundation dates back to the 1700s. People have claimed to see visions of a Revolution-era ghost. Of course the cellar looks like it’s three hundred years old, but I’m not about complaining right now. I have almost twenty acres of swampy woods out back. The beavers have landscaped the field. A little old lady who grew up here back in the way-back-when came and visited once when I was a kid. She explained to us how the woodshed used to be the “summer kitchen,” complete with water pump, elaborate wood stove, and embellished tin ceiling. It’s now considerably less elegant. It’s more like a mud room in the truest sense of the term. It does feature a cat condo, a garden potting table, and a ton of firewood, though.

My stalwart Swedish ancestors had an old saying that I keep up in the kitchen… “Bättre grov kaka än ingen smaka.” It basically means, “Better coarse bread than none at all.” In other words, be grateful for what you’ve got. It’s a great motto for those of us in the MFSH club.

There is certainly a creative aspect to living in a MFSH. I am reminded strongly of the Alcott’s place in Concord, which Louisa May referred to fondly as “apple slump.” Their old New England house seems pretty similar to mine. In it’s current form as a museum I’m sure it’s in better repair than mine, but they get to take in donations.

Lousia’s attic paradise where the character Jo March wrote books and put on theatricals is similar to my home’s second floor. The Alcott place was also called “Orchard House.” In fact, an apple tree is growing up over my woodshed and practically part of the building. Clingy and mischievous, it likes to hurl apples at my head this time of year during windy weather. Other than that it’s not bad. I’ve had to trim off a few branches but picking high fruit is easy when all I have to do is scramble up on the shed roof.

Photo by cliff1066™ on flickr

My other literary muse for DIY and home decorating would have to be Molly Weasley from J.K. Rowling’s Potter-verse. Their place, the Borough, as featured in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, is described as a creaky and tippy house of wonders that “burst with the strange and unexpected.” That’s a great description of your standard MFSH, for better or worse.

The Borough featured gnomes in the garden, a “clanking ghoul” in the attic (who “howled and dropped pipes whenever he thought things were getting too quiet”), and a ton of books and mismatched kitsch crammed in between. I only wish I knew how to do hands-free-magical housekeeping like Mrs. Weasley. In truth, that shit doesn’t do itself. Speaking of which (and witch)….

Now that I have a break from deadline writing, I’m working on that other seasonal project which also tends to require a lot of revision. That being the wood pile. I’m trying to cram about three cords of wood into the area where little-granny-who-knows once boiled her porridge. I really like working outside in the autumn, though. There’s something about the quality of the air that is very (thesaurus, please,) inspiriting. Yes, that’s a thing. Check the thesaurus. Tis the season for yard work and also for writing. Hence, NaNoWriMo.

I think it’s a great idea to have National Novel Writing Month in November. Autumn is a great time to be a writer. Rustling leaves sound like rustling pages, don’t you think? Wet trees smell like freshly sharpened pencils. Come Halloween, we have an ages-old human tradition of reaching out to the realms of the unseen and dressing up to become someone or something else. It’s a great time to purge old experiences and create world-scapes of new ones. Somewhere between the two, the author and hopefully the reader can sometimes find empowerment or even healing. At least a little fun.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandmother and mother and their aspirations as writers. In a hailstorm of synchronicity, I’ve recently found a bunch of my grandmother’s things, including some of said writing. My understanding from my mom and some other relatives is that my grandmother, Hester Adelaide Hammill (1902-1982), led an independent life. As a single mom (in fact, a divorcee) in the forties, she was not always welcomed into polite society. She was a flapper, an artist, and a tough, free spirit. Yet it wasn’t easy. Often living in poverty and close to despair, she turned to writing and photography as sources of expression and of hope. The rest of the time she usually earned money as a house keeper for the richy riches around Camden. Reputedly her fave movie was “Sabrina,” in which the chauffer’s daughter on such an estate made good (of course, by marrying one of the rich guys).

Hester Adelaide (Caulderwood) Hammill

My grandmother tried repeatedly to have her stories published. She did a novel also, entitled “Once Upon Some Trifling Trystings.” She illustrated all of her writing with her accompanying photographs. Most of them featured birds and nature. Her attempts to be published were too often met with rejection, as is the lot of most authors. In those days, of course, it was even harder for women to be published than it still is now. As far as my mother recalls, the prime literary achievement Hester attained was publication in the Women’s Home Companion. She also had a couple of pieces about bird watching printed in other magazines. I was once told, I think by my mother, that one publisher confided in Hester that she should be writing romances rather than nature essays. I think that’s why she wrote the manuscript I shorthand as “Trystings.” It’s perfectly well written but I don’t think it was in her comfort zone.

One of Hester’s photos meant to accompany the novel.

I still have an incomplete copy of Trystings, typed up and covered with editorial notes. In a lot of ways it is, of course, jarringly anachronistic. While written to be a contemporary romance, it features amusing moments, like where an automotive “machine” interrupts the quietude of Main Street. Since Hester loved birds, I enjoy noticing the ways she wove them all through the novel. The characters discuss the habits of local pigeons, flirt over bird-watching endeavors, and the heroine keeps a large flock of hens that she describes in several chapters. My favorite quote from the book, however, is as follows:

They went inside and took chairs in the small enclosure that was reserved as a waiting room for the trolley line and he divided his newspaper with her, settling himself immediately to reading the section in his hands.

He read in silence at first, suddenly breaking it with, “Here’s some bird news that’s not in our bird book. It says here that every right-minded woman should realize that there were sold last year at the London plume sales the scapular feathers of one hundred and ninety thousand egrets, and the skins of more than twenty-eight thousand birds of paradise, to be used in decorating women’s hats. Not to mention another sad feature of the situation–the sale of the tail-feathers of hundreds of lyre-birds, and of quills of the albatross. The woman who goes to church and bows a head decorated at such cost is a fit subject for investigation by the new psychology.”

Hester A Hammill, Once Upon Some Trifling Trystings

I love the way she put her joys and concerns about birds into the story. As a vegan and animal rights advocate, I also love that she cared about these things. It’s something I never knew about her. She is someone who could have really grown her voice, maybe even her publishing career, if she’d had the encouragement that writers are offering one another today. Besides NaNoWriMo, there are other resources to help women address the publishing gender gaps in different genres. I imagine that one Hester could have really benefitted from might be Women Who Submit (for women and non-binary writers), which in my experience tends to focus more on helping women break into literary journals and the memoir or poetry markets. Let’s face it, they also bagged a bad-ass name.

Next comes my mom, born Mary Jane Hammill in 1942. The biggest thing that happened in my mom’s young life was when the movie version of “Peyton Place” filmed in her home town of Camden. It seems creepy how Mary Jane is so mirrored by the youthful main (Maine) character. Like her, my mom was valedictorian at the local high school and a regular contributor to the town paper. She was very interested in acting and she authored several plays.

Like the movie/book character (named Allison), Mary Jane couldn’t wait to get out of Maine and take a bite out of the Big Apple. As I’ve mentioned, she met my dad while they were both working in editorial at McGraw Hill in NYC.

When that movie was filmed in Camden, though, my mom was a junior in high school. She had a great time collecting autographs from cast and crew on all the photos she took of them during the shoot. One of my step-grandfathers was an extra in some of the scenes. Since my mom knows so much about that movie, watching it is more like seeing home movies.

Anyhow, as a writer and actor and in many other ways, Mary Jane saw herself primarily as an entertainer. She was a “cut-up” and very popular as a creative presence pretty much anywhere she went. Of course, the Big Apple ended up taking a bigger bite out of her (as seems often to be the case). She ended up back in Camden with a baby (hi, there), and her second divorce to contend with. Then again, those divorces led to her career. She wound up taking an office job to pay one of the attorneys and worked as a freelance paralegal/legal secretary for over forty years. I have known her as an undaunted and skillful editor, for which I am very grateful. I’ll have to publish more of her writing later. It’s all squirreled away.

Mary Jane Hammill

At the time when I found all these images and put them together, I had attended a zoom church service in which a song called (I think) “Roots and Wings” was performed. Seeing my grandma, mom and myself lined up together gave me sort of a rooted feeling. At the same time, contemplating our writings and our dreams kind of feels like the wings. Of course, there are also the literal birds my grandmother loved so much.

Hester always taught us that seeing three crows together was very lucky. I grew up hearing my mom and her always saying, “Look! Three crows!” in delight. I still do that and I know I am partly seeing the three birds as a symbol for the three of us. Crows are sometimes seen as tricksters, and even more as messengers between the seen and unseen realms. Kind of like writers, I guess. They certainly are when it comes to my family.

As for me and my writing, all my readers know what sort of trouble I tend to get into. I’m not doing NaNoWriMo this year. I expect the next draft of Spinstress will be coming back to me any time. You can keep an eye out for my column in the next Sage Woman. Or, for that matter, in the last one if you missed it. I believe the last issue contained my thoughts about the magickal, transformative butterfly. Born literally in the shit and transforming themselves into something fancy. Lepidoptera are hard core.

Beyond that, I am looking into ways to e-publish a couple of things on Kindle Direct. I don’t want to jump in without making sure it’s really good quality, so it’s a process. One of the prime candidates would be “Prometheus Strain,” the sci-fi project I did once as a wrimo.

In the meantime, I do have some things still on print through Amazon. My fave for the Halloween season remains “Catherine Hill,” which is available still in the “Northern Frights” anthology by Grinning Skull Press. They’re a nice little publishing house prone to doing charity anthologies and the like. Another for our Bucksport fam would be “When Your Time Has Come,” a ghost story about local legend, Sarah Ware. That one is in this ghost story anthology by Zimbell House.

Happy reading and writing everyone. Whether you are a wrimo or a supporter, the autumn air will tantalize you with hints of stories past, present and tumbling out of someone right now. To close I offer a poem (below) that perhaps writers might understand. Some special readers as well.

No idea who this is.

Open me carefully.

My binding is worn thin and frail from too much tension

too much push and pull. Stretching wide and then snapping shut

a wasted effort to protect my pages that even when closed

will yellow and rot.

Look kindly on the chapters I share with you.

Normally I redact them to protect my truth, so the reader

stumbles clumsily through stuttering phrases

cut apart and watered down.

I will show you, only you the rough drafts and unpolished phrases as well as

the carefully polished gems that I worked and worked after dark

until they were clear enough to let me sleep, and in the morning

they looked like some stranger’s’ epiphanies.

I will show you, only you the things I keep hidden in the secret pages

that I never even dare to read myself.

Spinstress Craft: Magick for Independent Womxyn

Elsa Lanchester

Wait, you want it…when?!

me.

Hmmm….where to begin. I think I was sitting in the waiting room at the cardiac center inside EMMC about a year and three quarters ago when the crazy idea to pitch a book to Llewellyn occured to me.

Call it hubris. Call it the need to feel busy. Call it hope for some sort of future. I don’t know. But, it actually turned into a book contract! Now, the cat’s out of the bag. Well, the cover is. And as for bags, I’m wondering if I need to breathe into one.

Seriously, it’s a good thing. It’s just…a lot. Keeping it real.

So, I have an announcement all prepared. But for you all who ever read my blog, you get the real scoop. I’m in that carnival ride zone half way between laughing, screaming, and puking. I didn’t even want to talk about this whole project until a certain point. But I guess that point is here. You’ll look the other way and pretend I didn’t say anything if it all turns to pooh, right? Kay. Here’s all the stuff that I already wrote down about what this thing’s about.

“Spinstress” refers to magickal womxyn who weave and spin their own lives. It vibes off the old-school term “spinster,” because working womxyn at the dawn of industrialism often worked in the textile factories. The term spinster became something very negative, and that is what we are trying to smash (along with the toxic elements of what we call “patriarchy” that no longer serve any damn body in the long run).

“Womxyn” invites anyone of any gender to join the path if womxyn’s magick calls to them. The spells are about love, money, sex, career, family, power, arcane occult lore, and just a little bit of chocolate. 

Marilyn, bitches.

Seriously, you won’t believe the layers of magickal and semi-random awesomeness I’ve curated for this. I’ve got pumpkin spice lattes. I’ve got yoni eggs. I’ve got consecrated sex toys. I’ve got wards and sigils for self-defense (as well as security cameras and safety plans).

I’ve got glamour magick that works on a pair of Docker boots just as well as some Louis Vuitton heels. I’ve got obscure outtakes from infuriating Medieval manuscripts and Victorian “medical” books.

I’ll teach you how to call dragons, make and charge magickal oils, and speak the secret language of flowers. I’ve got unicorns (as sexual psycho-pomps). I’ve got black cats, broomsticks, and badass pointy hats. I’ve got the effing holy grail. I don’t even know what else to say.

Sound good? I hope you will find this book both helpful and fun. Some of the topics are heavy and some are just a laugh. Most are a bit of each. I hope that you find it a jumping off point to take the spinstress path and weave a lot more magick of your own.

One thing I encourage in the book is the use of our own musical playlists. These will come in handy for rituals, sex, cleaning the bathroom, or maybe even trying to do all three at once. Let me know if you figure out how to make that work. I’ll want your playlist.

I hope you can access it, because I tried making an introductory spinstress playlist on youtube. I’ll list the songs and what topics in the book they go with. If you can’t get my list, you can download them on your own at the platform of your choice. Feel free to share your own music ideas that seem to have the same vibes! I’m breaking it roughly into the types of chapters I have in the book.

Witchy and Magickal (hey, it’s that kind of book):

  • Yes, I’m a Witch by Yoko Ono. The completely incomprehensible lyric (you’ll know when you get there) is “Don’t try to make cock-pecked people out of us.” Now you’re gonna download it just to hear that, right?! Yoko. Effing. Ono.
  • Witchy Woman by the Eagles. I know, it’s old school. I shouldn’t say old because it came out the year I was born. Good ole ’73. Not too ole though.
  • Witchcraft, by Frank Sinatra, cause Frank reminds me of NY. Shout out to my home state.
  • Magic by Coldplay. The video is quite good. Lush.
  • I put a spell on you. Nina Simone is untouchable but IZA did a very good recent cover.
  • Sinnerman, by Nina Simone. Because I went through ridiculous angst about which version of the prior song to give you. Bonus Nina Simone. You’re welcome.
  • Season of the Witch. Okay, this was a Donovan single but there have been so many good womxyn covering it. Erykah Badu, Joan Jett and recently Lana Del Ray. Pick your poison (apple).
  • I never wear white, by Suzanne Vega. I actually do wear white, but it’s a badass song.
  • Which Witch, Florence and the Machine. The video is super weird.
  • Lily, by Kate Bush. We had to have some classic Kate Bush. Cast your magick circle with this song and you’ll be rock solid.

Sex and Love: It was hard not to let Lizzo just take over this whole thing but I did leave room for a couple other folks.

  • All is full of love, by Bjork. There’s a lyric nobody can understand and doesn’t show up on any transcriptions, which is “And even in my doubt (all is full of love).” It irritates me that nobody knows that one so there you go. Beautiful song.
  • Adore you, by Miley Cyrus. A little on the nose but I think it’s pretty and the sentiment is good.
  • Angel, by Sinead O’Connor. Gorgeous song.
  • Truth hurts, by Lizzo. Watch the official video. Fab.
  • Scuse Me, by Lizzo. Ditto on the video. In fact, this video and the song itself tell us so many counter-cultural things it may take you two or three viewings/listenings just to get over your case of amIreallyhearingthis? Enjoy.
  • Fuck love, by Iggy Azalea (playing devil’s advocate, I guess).
  • Boys, by (guess who?) Lizzo. Good video.
  • You are, by G Tom Mac. Alas, this one’s not on youtube. It’s obscure but it’s on his 2008 album, “Thou Shalt Not Fall.” This guy only gets credit for being a one-hit wonder for the Goth classic, “Cry Little Sister.” He’s actually got a lot of good songs, most of which he wrote himself. He collaborated a lot with Roger Daltrey at a certain point. They did a duet cover of “Child of mine” that’s a face-melter. But I digress. I do that.
  • You’ve got the love, by Florence and the Machine. I’m pretty sure this one is about god, but you call it.

Power (Note, a lot of these songs use words some find triggering like b***h and n****r. Where they are used, they are used by people who have a right to claim them based on identity and context. I think so, anyway. Just letting you know there are power words in here that we have to be mindful about):

  • Big God, by Florence and the Machine. Video is amazing.
  • Power, by Rapsody and featuring Kendrick Lamar. It was the other way around in the mainstream release, but this is her cut.
  • UNITY, by Queen Latifah. It’s old but it paved the way for womxyn in hip hop. It’s also really frikkin good.
  • Goddess, by Iggy Azalea. The girl can spit.
  • Like a Girl, by Lizzo. So awesome.
  • Mother’s Daughter, by Miley Cyrus. Watch the official video if you dare. She more than compensates for the gooiness of Adore you, here.
  • Greater Powers, by G Tom Mac. His voice is, well, powerful. Interesting use of the Indian frame drums here.

Self-esteem:

  • Crown, by Rapsody. Nice video.
  • This is me, by the cast for The Greatest Showman soundtrack (or solo by Keala Settle).
  • You Need to Calm Down, by Taylor Swift. You need to watch the official video. It’s at least half the impact of the song.
  • Run the world (Girls) by Beyonce. The video is weird. Just saying.
  • I’m Better, by Missy Elliott with Lamb. Her videos are incomprehensible gorgeousness.
  • Fitness, by Lizzo. Video. Now.
  • Impossible is nothing, by Iggy Azalea.
  • Good as Hell, by Lizzo. I told you she was trying to take over the whole list!

Holy Grail (Yes, there’s a whole section of music for Medieval research and such like. Just me? Also, I like soundtracks.):

  • Outlander, Season 1: People disappear all the time, The skye boat song, Dance of the druids, The woman of Balnain.
  • Kingdom of Heaven: Burning the past, Coronation, Sibylla, Path to heaven.
  • The DaVinci Code: Kyrie for the Magdalen, Poison Chalice, Malleus Maleficarum.

Listening to all that should keep you busy until the book comes out! I’m not sure exactly when that it. It’s going in the 2021 catalog. Beyond that, I’ll keep you posted! Wait, when’s the second draft due? Tomorrow? Where’s that paper bag?

Of white blouses, bread and ballots

Greetings, fellow humans! This message will also be posted on the website of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Castine (Maine) in due course, but without gaseous history-wonk effusions and additional snarky commentary. Lucky you! By the time you see this it may be August 18, which is the actual hundred year anniversary of the 19th amendment being ratified. Wondering why the heck that should still matter to you when you’ve got cats to feed and bills to pay (and bills to pay due to feeding the cats)? Keep reading.

When we think about the white dresses and festive banners of suffrage, we know how the story turns out. So far, at least. We may tend to skip ahead toward the end. “Those ladies” went out and held some parades, fundraisers and meetings. Some of them went to jail. We’ve no doubt heard a few of them refused to eat when they were incarcerated.

That sounds rough, we may think. But they won in the end (or in 1920 in the US). Well, white women won. Native American women and many immigrant women remained disenfranchised. Native people got the vote in 1925, but states would use little loopholes and technicalities (and overt violence) to keep them from the polls. We’re familiar with hearing this type of experience for African Americans. Even after women allegedly got the franchise in 1920, black women and men risked their lives and those of their families if they tried to exercise their rights to vote. We’ll talk more about that momentarily.

The pageantry possible when the women organizing it are badasses at sewing!

Skipping ahead through the lessons of history is understandable in our world of blazing-speed and multi-tasking, where we are not only tempted but encouraged to drop any habits or curiosities that do not clearly serve our immediate ends. Yet, as Congressman John Lewis recently reminded us in his powerful memorial op-ed in the New York Times, those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. When it comes to disenfranchisement and voter suppression, this may never have been truer than it is in the fall of 2020. As he said:

You must also study and learn the lessons of history because humanity has been involved in this soul-wrenching, existential struggle for a very long time. People on every continent have stood in your shoes, through decades and centuries before you. The truth does not change, and that is why the answers worked out long ago can help you find solutions to the challenges of our time.

When Woodrow Wilson was elected to office in 1913, women and other minorities who were inclined to activism were ready to hit the street. This president was known to be a racist. He supported and helped to disseminate overtly racist propaganda, like the white nationalist film “Birth of a Nation,” which was based on a novel called, “The Clansman.” Among other things, this film passed on the old tropes that black men would sexually assault white women if they were not rigorously controlled by morally superior (civically franchised) white males. Wilson screened this film at the White House. It was, in fact, the first film ever screened at the White House. One example of a president taking advantage of a new and exciting technology to endorse certain opinions more personal than civic.

Some NOT very fine people having a KKK style celebration of the first film ever screened in the White House by President Woodrow Wilson

Women engaged in activism for their own franchise at that time. Then called suffragettes, hundreds held a protest parade against Wilson in March of 1913. It was held the day before his inauguration and widely compared to the 2016 women’s marches. In 1913, the women on the march were assaulted in the streets to the extent that over a hundred of them had to be hospitalized. The secretary of defense had to deploy federal troops to help quell the violence that rose up against them and allow ambulances to get through the violent crowds to even help them. Later and after a congressional hearing on the matter, the police commissioner of Washington DC was forced out over his decisions not to send sufficient police support for the women’s march.

crowds pressing in on the parade, 1913, stopping the lead float from progressing

When women were jailed for protests back at that time, it was not a low impact experience. Lady Constance Bulwer Lytton recorded in her memoirs what it was like to come up against hostile police. On her first march to Parliament, this was her experience:

The crowd pushed me up against a policeman and I said to him, “I know you are only doing your duty and I am doing mine.” His only answer was to seize me with both his hands round the ribs, squeeze the remaining breath out of my body and, lifting me completely into the air, throw me with all his strength. Thanks to the crowd I did not reach the ground; several of my companions in more isolated parts of the square were thrown repeatedly onto the pavement…. A German lady who was tall, well-built and of considerable strength managed to keep near me. Three times, after each of the “throws,” she came to my hep and warded off the crowd while I leant up against some railings, or against her shoulder to recover my breath. Several times I said to her, “I can’t go on; I simply can’t go on.” She answered, “Wait for a little, you will be all right presently.” At the time and ever since I have felt most inexpressibly grateful to this stranger-friend.

Lady Constance and pal (I’ve noted before that Constance was a dedicated vegetarian also)

This type of treatment was recorded by many women on both sides of the pond. Of course, once Constance and her peers made it to the parliament, many were arrested and incarcerated. The treatment didn’t get any better there. Two of the most notorious prisons where these women activists ended up were the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia, U.S. and the Holloway Women’s Prison in London, U.K. (where Constance wound up many times). Once in jail they were deliberately (not surprisingly) treated with optimal lack of dignity. At the worst prisons some were stripped, chained naked to cell doors, and sometimes sexually assaulted. This happened in November of 1917 at Occoquan in VA with such brutality that historians still term it a “night of terror,” with women being stripped and chained to the cells, and one being beaten to the point of a heart attack.

They didn’t do their activism, as the media at the time tried to portray, because they were narcissistic attention-seekers or bored housewives who’d been “allowed” too much time on their hands. They did it because they knew they, their children and grandchildren would never have full rights to safety and freedom (or at least a chance at them) without the massive privileges that came with a ballot.

one of the ambulances at the 1913 parade, completely unable to move until Feds sent the literal cavalry to help

This is not to say that our activist ancestors always got things right. At the same 1913 march where the police let Wilson supporters in town for the inauguration wreak havoc on the women activists, internal strife was doing damage of its own. Black women activists from groups like the National Association of Colored Women (NACW) were being turned away from the march by white organizers. The NACW was formed in 1896 to advocate for the franchise as a way that black women and men could work against inequalities of all kinds (especially lynching, which was rampant at the time the group was founded and was more of a threat than ever with Wilson screening that horrible film and endorsing the clan). The women’s club motto was “lifting as we climb,” and they sought the women’s vote to improve the lives of women as well as men in their communities.

Due to pressures put to bear by white women from the segregated south, the women’s march organizers colluded with oppression. Now a’days we call that “horizontal hostility,” where minorities put in the position of scrapping for crumbs end up in conflict with each other rather than the ones pulling the strings. Anyway, noted African American suffragist Ida B Wells did manage to march with the white delegation from Illinois as a form of protest, but she was the exception that proved the rule. Similar things were happening in the UK as British women tried to sell ladies from Australia, India, and other “colonies” on sitting in the back seat and waiting for a turn.

NACW CLUB OF BUFFALO, NEW YORK, LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.

None of these women’s activism was not easy or safe. Mostly, as the activists pointed out, because women couldn’t vote. Without full citizenship, they lacked basic protections. They pointed out what we all too often forget in this day and age, where voting is so much of a privilege that it has become little more than a hassle. They pointed out that those with the franchise make all social decisions about rights and burdens around issues of healthcare, child care, education, abuse, indigency, reproductive choices (or lack thereof), and literal freedom (whether people may be enslaved or held in poor house prisons, or made to work off debts as indentured servants, for example). The first time any women were registered to vote in Massachusetts, for example, was in order to vote on school board committees. After several failed attempts they won this limited franchise in 1879. At this same time in the American South, openly violent white nationalist groups like the KKK and “red shirts” were terrorizing black citizens who dared to take advantage of the waning opportunities that came after the Civil War.

Particularly, white southerners used violence and intimidation to keep black citizens away from voter registration and the polls. It was official in 1896 when the Supreme Court decision Plessy vs. Ferguson gave Southern states room to modify their constitutions and create fully legal segregation. Hence came the era of Jim Crow, with stunts like “guess the number of jellybeans in this jar” in order to register to vote (but only if you’re African American). Activists like young John Lewis were beaten and humiliated for their peaceful sit-ins and marches, culminating in the infamous “Bloody Sunday” where police gassed and beat Lewis and other participants in a march across the Edmund Pettus bridge in Selma, Alabama. Particularly infamous was the beating of female activist Amelia Boynton, due to the abject brutality the police unleashed on her. Reminiscent of the personal accounts of Lady Lytton, Amelia later recounted her experiences on Bloody Sunday:

Then they charged. They came from the right. They came from the left. One [of the troopers] shouted: ‘Run!’ I thought, ‘Why should I be running?’ Then an officer on horseback hit me across the back of the shoulders and, for a second time, on the back of the neck. I lost consciousness.

Amelia Boynton about Bloody Sunday in Selma, 1965
Lewis and Boynton holding President Obama’s hands at the 2013 Pettus Bridge commemoration (Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson) This official White House photograph is being made available only for publication by news organizations and/or for personal use printing by the subject(s) of the photograph. The photograph may not be manipulated in any way and may not be used in commercial or political materials, advertisements, emails, products, promotions that in any way suggests approval or endorsement of the President, the First Family, or the White House.

Lewis, Boynton, and their brave peers won a major victory in 1965 with the Voting Rights Act. This outlawed discriminatory voting practices like those of the Jim Crow south. Unfortunately, in 2013, the teeth were pulled out of this law. A key formula in the language was removed by a slight Supreme Court majority (5 to 4) that meant states no longer need to seek federal permission to tinker with their voting anti-discrimination laws (a guardrail known as “preclearance”). As Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg warned in her typically accurate and acerbic dissent,

“Throwing out preclearance when it has worked and is continuing to work to stop discriminatory changes is like throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.”  

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg 2013

Okay, she’s awesome.

Ever since activists around universal franchise (making sure everyone can vote with equal ease of access) have warned us that states have been up to mischief. Purging the voter rolls of people who haven’t voted recently, moving polling places without notifying citizens, throwing out ballots due to many subtle technicalities, and so on have snowballed over the past seven years. One of the high-profile activists fighting for universal franchise in the news of recent months has been Stacy Abrams. Abrams ran to be Governor of Georgia in 2018. She lost to her opponent, Secretary of State Brian Kemp, who happened to be the one setting a lot of rules about voter accessibility and the validity of ballots. Accusations of corruption by Kemp were rife, and not for the first time in his career. Yet whether we agree with those allegations or not, Stacy Abrams’ campaign had a wonderful speech in it that can be applied to the importance of the universal franchise. This speech wasn’t done by Kemp herself. It was done by Oprah!

Oprah harkened back to the times experienced by young John Lewis (and generations of both their ancestors before), when she urged us all to the polls. At a televised “town hall” event in November 2018, she said:

I didn`t take voters voting seriously until around my mid-twenties. Around my mid-twenties, I had the privilege of hearing Reverend Otis Moss Jr. who`s a preacher. You all know him, preacher, preacher in Cleveland, Ohio. And I heard him tell the story of his father, of Otis Moss Sr. who right here in Georgia`s True County got up in the morning and put on his only suit and his best tie and he walked six miles to the voting poll location he was told to go to in LaGrange. And when he got there after walking six miles in his good suit and tie, they said boy, you`re at the wrong place. You need to go over to Mountville. So he walked another six miles to Mountville. And when he got there they said, boy you`re at the wrong place. You need to go to the Rosemont School. And I picture him walking from dawn to dusk in his suit, his feet tired getting to the Rosemont School and they say boy you`re too late. The polls are closed, and he never had a chance to vote. By the time the next election came around, he had died. So when I go to the polls and I cast my ballot, I cast it for a man I never knew. I cast it for Otis Moss Sr. who walked 18 miles one day just for the chance to vote. And when I go into the polls, I cast the vote for my grandmother Hattie Mae Lee who died in 1963 before the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and never had a chance to vote. I vote for her. And when I stand in the polls, I do what Maya Angelou says I come as one, but I stand as 10,000, all those who paved the way that we might have the right to vote. And for anybody here who has an ancestor who didn`t have the right to vote and you are choosing not to vote wherever you are in this state in this country, you are dishonoring your family. We are disrespecting and disregarding their legacy, their suffering, and their dreams when you don`t vote. So honor your legacy. Honor your right to citizenship in this which is the greatest country in the world, the greatest country in the world. And the right to vote is like the crown we all get to wear.

I would lovingly urge all of us to honor an ancestor when we take the time and make the effort to make sure we cast a ballot. Base line, all of us who have female ancestors, and I think that’s pretty common, have such ones to honor. Many never saw their own chance, but they endured great suffering and hardship to win that chance for us. They knew what we have all too often forgotten.

A ballot is bread. A ballot is a roof over your head. A ballot is laws to protect you when the police are called, either by you or on you. A ballot is an education for your children and grandchildren (an education equal to those with greater opportunity). A ballot is dignified care for our elders and for yourself in times of illness, disability, and later years. A ballot is your freedom of speech, and freedom of reproductive choice. The rights that our forebears fought for so hard are not cast in iron and impervious to harm. As the Voter Rights Act shows, they can be eroded in a heartbeat and eventually perhaps destroyed completely.

A ballot cast by you is also all of those things cast by you on behalf of your friends and neighbors. Those who fought for the ballot knew all too well what it is worth. Would they ever have dreamed how quickly many of us forgot? What else can we do? Even if we don’t have the time or proclivity toward “activism,” there are things. Now is the time to urge friends and neighbors to apply for absentee ballots. Simple letting your own community know you plan to vote and talking about the positive reasons for this civic decision, makes an impact. If you go to the ballot in person, perhaps take one person in your circle who needs a ride.

Those who fought for the vote knew its value and wouldn’t want us to forget. I’ll let one of them say that in her own words. This is from Carrie Chapman Catt, president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association from 1900-1904 and 1915-1920.

The vote is the emblem of your equality, women of America, the guarantee of your liberty. That vote of yours has cost millions of dollars and the lives of thousands of women. Money to carry on this work has been given usually as a sacrifice, and thousands of women have gone without things they wanted and could have had in order that they might help get the vote for you. Women have suffered agony of soul which you can never comprehend, that you and your daughters might inherit political freedom. That vote has been costly. Prize it! The vote is a power, a weapon of offense and defense, a prayer. Understand what it means and what it can do for your country. Use it intelligently, conscientiously, prayerfully.”

Carrie Chapman Catt

Non-partisan voting resources:

League of Women Voters: https://www.lwvme.org/

When we all vote: https://www.whenweallvote.org/