I’m probably going to get a lot of hate for this, but here goes nothing:
In the midst of everything going on in the world right now, in the midst of all of the amazingly important fights being fought for incredibly essential causes, can we please, please, please take a bit of a step back from the “future is female” rhetoric, or at least take a serious, hard introspective look at the ways it’s incredibly binary and gender essentialist (and often cyclically misogynist) itself?
It absolutely crushes me that I feel like I’ve had an incredibly hard time participating in recent vital social conversations, but every time I see rhetoric used like “if only girls ruled the world, we would already have world peace,” I can’t help but recoil a bit. If by “the future is female,” you mean that you’re campaigning for a world where we don’t need to even have conversations anymore about equal rights regardless of gender, I am with you more than I can express, and please keep on fighting, and I’ll keep on fighting right beside you even harder. But so often, that doesn’t seem like what’s meant by “the future is female,” or at least it’s not how it’s coming across, always.
“If girls ruled the world, we would already have world peace” is not feminism, full stop. End of debate.
It’s Ryan-Gosling-feminism-lite, where women are special snowflake beings of pure virginal light who no man could ever hope to hold a candle to the moral piety of. It’s a slippery slope to the view that gender roles are essential and innate, so that men can hold doors open for women and always pay the bill at the restaurant out of chauvinistic chivalry. It’s a slippery slope to propping up the white, middle-class, straight, Christian, enforced-picket-fence-child-rearing-nuclear-family-unit kyriarchy just as hard on our side as on theirs.
It’s more of the same “girls girls girls are just the bestest and so soft and sweet and wonderful and made of sunshine and flowers and rainbows and unicorn sparkles and hair braiding while giggling drunkenly in a bathroom at a party” that turns all possible relationships between women into bestie BFF friendship bracelet making therapy sessions, which is especially erasive of the queer female experience, and more broadly, female sexuality, and more broadly even than that, female productive and creative energy in general, and its ability to exist outside of the presence of a man. It’s horrifically TERF-y and makes trans boys and other nonbinary individuals (including all the ones out there in red-state middle America who will never have the words and safe space to say that out loud or to identify that that’s what the unease inside them is) internalize a shit ton of self-hatred that maybe their identity is only a product of their internalized misogyny. It’s horrifically white feminist, see: the white female election vote debacle.
It’s incredibly erasive of the complexity of women as, you know.
People.
Not pure virginal white light vessels or soft unicorn rainbow sparkle hair-braiders or moon children witches with a special connection to mother earth or sassy bad bitches doing it for the sisterhood or whatever other ways we as feminists make ourselves into one dimensional stereotypes all on our own.
Fuck that noise.
Women are humans.
Listen: I’ve unfortunately known a lot of shitty, abusive, toxic people in my life. And a great deal of them were women, since as full and proper humans and not emblems of pure middle-school-BFF white light, women have the capacity inside them to be terrible, or wonderful, or terrible and wonderful all at once. And while our society at large so often excuses terrible men for heinous acts, which is the entire point of so many conversations happening right now, our society also so often pretends that – in ways that all stem back to misogyny just the same – equally terrible women just don’t exist full stop.
And that lets terrible women slip under the radar and hide under the sheepskin of the patriarchy. That allows us, in liberal social justice conversation circles, to decry the actions of a violent abusive man as an emblem of everything that’s wrong with the patriarchy, but too often, when a woman (especially a white, able-bodied, gender-presentation-conforming, physically attractive one) takes equally violent actions, we prop it up as the “sisterhood” finally getting “karmic justice” on the patriarchy, which isn’t any better than female rapists and pedophiles being tongue-tutted at with a wink by grown men as “naughty naughty girls” their fourteen-year-old libidos wish they had as a high school teacher. That allows – in something I’ve personally experienced in my life, and I know I can’t be the only one – for judicial and law enforcement officials, social workers and children’s services employees, and so many others in positions of authority across the country to dismiss cases of female-on-female violence as something that can surely be hugged out over a good talk and a cup of tea.
That so often allows us to not recognize, not even know how to begin to recognize, abusive behavior when it comes from a source with a body our society genders as female. Especially when that abuse is being directed at another person with a body recognized as female, especially if that abuse isn’t the kind we societally gender as masculine (physical force, neglect, aggression) but is the kind we gender as feminine (emotional and psychological abuse, hypersurveillance, gaslighting). Especially if that relationship isn’t a sexual one where someone wears the lip gloss and someone has the buzz cut. Especially when that relationship is a parent/child(-of any gender) one where the “unending purity and graciousness of a mother’s love” allows unfathomable numbers of women to abuse children and get away with it completely unrecognized.
If conceptually reclaiming your womanhood (or, same at you, dude feminists, reclaiming the womanhood of people you love) in some way is important to you and your identity, that’s incredible, and I support you wholeheartedly with whatever you need to do for that. And it should go without stating that I’m 1000% onboard and then some with dismantling the garbage of the patriarchy that got us here to the hot mess that is 2017. And women’s marches and declarations of feminist identity and all are so unbelievably, unbearably important right now, in the face of so many civil rights dangers, and please don’t misinterpret that I’m advocating against them somehow.
But before you tangle up your “girls run the world” rhetoric into fighting this fight we’re right now, please stop and consider all the people who have been abused by terrible women, too. Please stop to consider what your strong independent white feminism is doing to women of color, queer women, the trans/nonbinary community, victims of female abusers, and others whose experiences are too intersectional to conform with a single idea of reclamative womanhood.
If women (exclusively, hierarchically, systematically, in isolation) ran the world, we wouldn’t have world peace – we’d probably be in just as much of a mess, albeit maybe in different ways, than we are right now, because people are people are people, full stop, end of debate.
Let’s all run the world together, please? That’s the only way it’s going to get any better.
So this has been the news of Ireland for the past day. 796 remains of children where discarded and hidden away by the Bon Secours nuns in a septic tank on the grounds of an old “mother and babies” home in Tuam Co. Galway from sometime in the 1920s until the 1960s. These homes were common in Ireland to where unmarried mothers were sent to because they’ve brought shame on their family in the eyes of their religion.
I’d appreciate it if this was spread around on tumblr because many people don’t realise that this was what happened in this country. The General reaction from Irish folk was dismay and disgust and most importantly many were “not surprised” when this report’s findings were released. And The Catholic Church still has a stronghold on the country today.
And in unsurprising news the Irish pro-life groups and infamous spokespeople have been silent so far in condemning the actions and atrocities of the Catholic Church.
I’d add this comment, from a pissed off Irish bloke on fb:
^ these people covered up the deaths of born children in a septic tank but they are the moral authority on whether women can get rid of unwanted pregnancies?
I don’t read the news and I haven’t listened to the radio in the last few days so I’ve no idea if this has been widely reported in the British news, but this is the first I’d heard of it. I’ve done a bit of reading now. My mum grewup in C Cork, near Galway (where the grave was found), and was a teenager in Ireland in the 60s. The thought that getting pregnant, whether consensual or not, could have landed her in one of these places, and my resultant half-sibling in a septic tank grave, is horrifying.
It’s worth noting this is not the first time mass graves have been discovered attatched to former Mothers and Babies Homes and Magdalene Lanudaries. In 1993, 155 corpses were exhumed from a Sisters of Our Lady of Charity home in Dublin. In that case, even as the bodies were exhumed (the Sisters had sold the land to a property developer to recoup losses they’d made on the stock market, yes really) it was not reported. However, as word spread outrage did grow, leading to the enquiries and damning reports into these institutions later in the decade.
In the above more recent case, it was apparently fairly common knowledge locally that the site contained a mass grave since two boys stumbled across it in 1975. It’s horribly safe to assume that these two cases aren’t isolated and that there are many more mass graves in Ireland.
The children died of ‘natural’ causes, but neglect, malnutition and abuse hurried many on their way, or killed otherwise healthy children outright.
When a player is accused of assaulting a woman, perhaps the team doesn’t have to trot him out, front and center, every time it holds an event. Maybe we don’t need to schedule a bobblehead night for a player accused of raping a woman before the police investigation is completed? It’s possible a trial for domestic battery should be a disqualifier for being named first star that particular week.
Currently, the league and teams pretend everything is hunky dory and practically dare anyone to mention accusations against a player. When one does dare question a team’s handling of an accusation, a dedicated hoard of online attack-dog fans routinely threaten and harass the interloper into silence. It works out great for the NHL.
From time to time, NHL teams make announcements that they’re “reaching out” to female fans in an attempt to grow the fan base. Women don’t want “ladies nights,” pink jerseys or Hockey 101 sessions with the hottest players. What women do want is to feel that the league and their team values them as much as their male counterparts.
That starts with the way the league addresses violence against women.
So i work as your friendly underpaid barista and currently we’re having problems with one of our regulars hitting on our women staff members. The first woman he hit one, he wrote a note to her….as in elementary school note passing. Now of course, she’s at work and the model in f&b and retail is that you do everything in your power not to piss off the guest.
So in hopes of not causing a scene, she kindly wrote on the note that she appreciate the interest but she’s a lesbian. Now, 1) she shouldn’t have to out herself to a complete stranger all to avoid a bad yelp review. 2) She shouldn’t be forced into a situation where she has to entertain a guests unwanted attentions to avoid at the least, a negative review on yelp.
So once she passes this dude the note, he then starts jokingly exclaiming “I always fall for lesbians” in the middle of our cozy cafe, effectively outing her to anyone within earshot. Now my co-worker isn’t closeted, she’s out and proud etc, etc. However, that doesn’t give someone else the right to disclose her sexuality without her permission, and especially not after he effectively coerced her into outing herself in order to avoid his come-ons.
Another one of our regular guests, hits on one of our baristas on a regular basis. No matter how much she casually brings up her boyfriend. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve had to literally stand in front of her so he can’t force eye-contact with her (Naturally we do this kind of thing in a low-key manner so that we don’t actively piss off guest and thus put our jobs at risk).
I’ve had to actively shut down people on behalf of my women co-workers (Nah dude, she’s seeing someone. She’s not interested in that sort of thing. Dude, chill out.) because they simply can’t understand the fact that they are at their jobs and simply just want to get their jobs done and go home. Stop taking advantage of the unequal power dynamics to force her to engage you. She’s seem nice? Of course she is, her job revolves around being nice. She seemed into you? No, I can promise she’s not, she’s doing her job and told me five minutes ago how you were clearly staring down her chest.
“But how am I supposed to let her no I’m interested in her?” you might say. My answer, that’s not my fucking concern. There are plenty of opportunities to meet people in this world that don’t revolve around you forcing them into an uncomfortable position while they’re literally trying to earn a living. Not every person your interested in obligated to entertain that interest.
Simply put, stop being goddam creepers and let people do their goddamn jobs.
Fuck off. Some of us have a hard enough time talking to people without shitheads like you guilting us over it.
No one’s guilting you over anything. The point of this post is for you to stop doing it, not to do it and feel guilty.
If you feel awkward hitting on someone who’s not in a position where she can safely be honest with you or leave if you make her uncomfortable, that’s good. Listen to that awkward feeling. It’s telling you that you’re transgressing a boundary.
Now, if you feel like you’re always awkward and always crossing a boundary, then posts like this should be a gold mine. It’s telling you in clear terms where boundaries actually exist and why.
Story time:
There was this dude I knew through a monthly infosec meeting. He knew me and my fiancee and my friends through this meeting and he started coming to the coffee shop while I was working. He took a shine to one of my coworkers. He started asking me when she would be on shift and when I wouldn’t tell him he started showing up every night just in case. So she took on afternoon shifts and he started showing up in the afternoons. So she took morning shifts and he started showing up in the morning. So she started taking random shifts and he started showing up all day, from four thirty am when we opened until close at one am.
The thing is, while this is creepy in hindsight he wasn’t doing anything overtly creepy. The shop billed itself as “Smalltown’s Living Room” and there were a few regulars who hung out all day. And this guy bought endless iced teas and ate all his meals off our menu and bought ice cream for regulars and tipped extravagantly. He must have been spending close to a hundred dollars a day at the shop and never did anything beyond placing his order, chatting for a minute, and sitting in a chair where he could always watch the counter. Sometimes he’d talk to me after I locked up and asked if she liked him and ask me how he could get him to like her and no amount of “dude, it’s not going to happen, she’s not interested” could convince him. “But she’s so nice to me,” he’d say, “she smiles when she sees me and listens when I talk to her. No other girls do that for me.”
The owner felt a little hogtied by the whole thing – the guy hadn’t DONE anything, except spend more money than my coworkers and I made on a shift each day to have the opportunity to see her. At least five hundred a week on product. Almost the payroll of a full-time employee every week. And there was always a ten or a twenty from him in the tip jar at the end of every shift – five or ten dollars that represented about an extra hour’s worth of labor to everyone working there. So my co-worker and I felt bad too – he wasn’t really being THAT creepy, was it worth it to deprive our other co-workers of this extra income? (Spoilers: yes)
After a couple months of this (and yes, it was terrible that it went on for that long) my coworker got a better-paying, stalker-free job at her university and nobody was happier for her than me. It was my stupid bullshit that had infected her life and if I hadn’t told this acquaintance to swing by the coffee shop sometime she wouldn’t have had to deal with being scared and tense and having to hold a brittle smile every day at work just so that five or ten would reliably show up, so that someone’s hours wouldn’t get cut because of the dip in sales.
And when she left this guy was crushed. Didn’t show up for a month. Then he started coming in again. Started talking to me about how heartbroken he was, hanging out for my entire shift and thanking me for being such a good listener and marveling over the fact that my fiancee, his friend didn’t appreciate me the way I deserved. He’d follow me out on my lunch break and sit at my table. Eventually I went to the Smalltown Police Department and asked what I would need for a restraining order.
“Well, have you told him in clear words that he is not to speak to you and to leave you alone?”
“I can’t, he’s a customer and he only speaks to me in front of other customers.”
“Well, unless you tell him to cut off contact and he violates that there’s nothing we can do.”
And that was the real nastiness of this trick – always being in front of other customers. When you’re on register you can’t tell a customer never to speak to you again then casually move on to the next person in line. When you’re getting a muffin out of the pastry case you can’t tell a customer “go away and never come back” in front of some soccer mom who believes the customer is always right. You can drown someone out with a blender or an espresso machine, but only temporarily. There was a cubbyhole where we put our purses under the register – eventually it got to the point that if I saw him through the windows I’d let my coworker know then crawl into it to hide. Sometimes I’d spend half a shift doing dishes and making sandwiches in the back where he couldn’t follow me. At least we’d never run out of clean mugs, right?
It was too much. I told my fiancee and a couple other infosec friends what he was doing. He’d stopped coming to the meetings months before over a tiff with another dude so they weren’t seeing him. The had jobs to go to, they didn’t have the time to sit at a coffee shop with me all day. So they took a day off work in the middle of the week and when this guy followed me outside on my lunchbreak I texted them that he was there with me. I didn’t respond to anything that he said during that lunch, I only said “I don’t want to talk to you anymore, please leave me alone.” I said it quietly, but I said it in clear words, per what the police department had told me. He continued to talk while I continued to look at my book and try to eat my food when my fiancee and his friend showed up and joined us at the table. My fiancee (who is, by the way, over six and a half feet tall and built like a fridge) sat down next to him, our other friend sat down on the other side. They both very casually asked what he’d been up to recently. He didn’t say anything, just bit his lip, glared at me, and stormed off. He never came back to the coffee shop.
He DID email a friend of mine to rage about how I’d broken his heart and lied to him and misled him and sent mixed signals – how it was so nasty and two-faced to be smiling and nice one minute and turn on him the next, how he thought we had a connection, and why would I spend so much time listening to him and laughing at his jokes and smiling at him otherwise?
For two months nothing happened, then he showed up at the infosec meeting and as my fiancee and I were getting into the car to leave he charged at us and started trying to hit my (once again, goddamned enormous) fiancee and trying to push past him to come at me. This guy was about five ten and not terribly strong, and while we were scared we didn’t want to fucking KILL him, so my fiancee just sort of knocked him down instead of having a serious fight. The guy got into his car, rushed around bunch of us in the parking lot, which was genuinely terrifying because we thought he might try to run someone over, then sped away into the night. We called the cops to file a report of assault. The cops didn’t want to talk to me, said I wasn’t involved in the altercation. They took a statement from my fiancee and two other guys who had been in the parking lot, then took down my number and a note that I claimed he’d been “close” to me. I told them he’d been harassing me but they just said that it wasn’t harassment if he just showed up at my job and didn’t actually DO anything.
Well, it turns out that while we were making our report this guy had driven to our friend’s house and rammed the house repeatedly with his Honda. He completely caved in the garage and tried to charge the living room but was stopped by a reinforced concrete wall. When the cops showed up there he was on the lawn raging about how we were all against him and trying to control him.
I missed all my classes the next day because I went to my college campus police department and said I needed a restraining order. I explained what had happened and their first question was how long I had dated the guy. Why did he think we were dating if I hadn’t been flirting with him? Had I led him on or tried to make it seem like I was interested in him? They escorted me to the women’s violence prevention center on campus and I spent approximately six hours filling out paperwork before the director of the center drove me to the county courthouse and made sure I was granted a temporary restraining order that day. It was made more difficult because I only knew this guy’s first name. At every step I had to reach out to my infosec friends or my fiancee to ask for his address, to check the spelling of his name, to confirm the make and model of his vehicle. This guy had chased my coworker out of a job, been showing up on every one of my shifts for months, and I didn’t know anything about him because to me he was just a customer who was an annoyance that had become a threat. But in his head I was the nice girl he’d had a meet-cute with at a fucking hacker hangout who blossomed into a romance in the goddamned coffee-shop AU he was scripting in his imagination, who spurned this rich, considerate, shy boy in favor of her lunk of a boyfriend who wasn’t good enough for her. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to explain a fifteen-year-old gray-hat hacker meetup to a judge in a way that doesn’t make it sound like you’re selling heroin? Calling it a professional infosec networking group didn’t work well enough to include it on the list of places on my restraining order. He couldn’t come to my coffee shop, my home, or my school but was free to return to the meeting where he’d attacked us that was full of my friends who DIDN’T have restraining orders so long as he left when I showed up.
I hate coffee-shop AUs, in case that isn’t clear. It perpetuates this idea that the person behind the counter is your ONE if only you’re persistent and sweet and generous and bashful enough to keep forcing them to endure your presence in their place of employment.
Look, it sounds fucking shitty to say it but most customer service jobs can be accomplished by machines. Automated phone trees can take the place of receptionists, you can get a latte as good as anything you’d get from a Starbucks out of a machine, cashiers can be replaced by self-checkout. Even bartenders can be replaced by some tubes and buttons if you have enough money to burn. The reason customer service still exists is because it is emotional labor that the customer is paying for. An automated phone tree can’t reassure you that it’ll pass your message along just as soon as possible and that we’ll make sure the tech gets back to you. An automated espresso machine won’t smile at you and ask if you’re having a good day. A self-checkout doesn’t make small talk about how great that ice-cream is or how nice the day is outside. A drink machine may be able to listen to your problems but it won’t say “I feel you,” and tell a funny story to make you feel better. We live in the fucking future, almost everything you could want can be accomplished with an machine an a cellphone. If you’re interacting with a human it’s because you want to interact with a human and you want that human to be nice to you. You are paying for their kindness, for their smiles when their feet hurt and their questions about your day when they haven’t had lunch yet.
Flirting with customer service workers at work, asking them out when they’re on the clock and paid to make you happy, telling them you think they’re attractive and expecting a gushing response – that’s breaking the rules. That’s a lose-lose situation that you’ve set them up for. If they continue to do their job and be nice to you they’re “leading you on” and if they react negatively and ask you to leave or to not speak to them that way it’s “bad customer service.”
A good rule of thumb if you’re thinking about asking someone out or flirting with them is to ask yourself this question: “if do this thing and it makes them uncomfortable can they leave this place without it impacting their livelihood?”
If the answer is “no” and you do it anyway you’re a jackass. That person is trapped. You have cornered them. You have put your desire to flirt with them over their ability to earn a living.
“Oh good, I’ll do it now, when they can’t get away” is not an effective dating strategy. It’s abusive, it’s creepy, and nobody is well-paid enough to put up with unwanted sexual or romantic advances while they’re trying to do their job.
Don’t pull this shit.
^^^^^^^that was intense
My god what a maddening story. And of course, there will be many who read it and dismiss it as one in a million or the actions if a particular weirdo. It’s not.
When I worked on the shop floor of Waterstones it was at a branch that opened till 10. The evenings were when the creeps turned up. I am not exaggerating when I say not a single female member of staff at that place was without at least one ‘customer’ (mostly they weren’t paying customers, more people making use of our seats and charging their phones) developing a fixation on them. One guy had transferred his stalking of our (gay) assistant manager from her previous branch. One friend used to gave her boyfriend meet her when she finished to avoid the guy who would like to walk ‘with’ her to the station. I’ve previously mentioned my own experience, which was a less extreme version of the above story. No violent response or campaign of real stalking, just lots of aggressive messages and slagging me off to my friends.
(If you think you shrug this stuff off, I was more affected by my experience than I realised till later. I feel angry that a guy’s sense of entitlement to my time, good will and then to take out his hurt feelings on me, resulted in a shaken confidence that had noticeably negative consequences within my life afterward. How dare someone think they get to do that?)
I’m describing the experiences of about ten women (some of them as young as 19) in about a two year period. Every single one got at least one borderline stalker, some a honest-to-goodness stalker.
I should mention the male staff didn’t get off entirely Scott free, our handsomest make colleagues tended to get taken for lunch by an older, creepy local author. But the fact that they WENT says a lot about the difference in conditioned fear responses.
This happens to women in retail all the time.
And the men who whine we are changing the rules… have you considered you are meant to be an adult which means you don’t GET a set of rules? You’re meant to navigate for yourself how to deal well with other people. And you do that by listening when they say they gave a problem and not whinging it’s haaarrrddd not to be creepy.
Reading about abusive men and the way they think. Very unsettling and an incredible book so far. Here are my very professional notes.
what book is this?
This is from “Why Does He DO That” by Lundy Bancroft.
I’m so glad I’m seeing more and more Lundy Bancroft quotes on my dash because this book CHANGES THE LIVES OF ABUSE VICTIMS.
The programs run for rehabilitating abusive men through the courts? Bancroft DESIGNED THEM. His programs are replicated ALL OVER THE WORLD. He literally wrote THE book on abuser rehabilitation.
Can we talk about how it seems like the entirety of the book is online on PDF, this making it accessible to anyone with an internet connection?
That is how we stop abuse.
We enable everyone to know what it looks like, so that when it happens, they can shut it down.
Arm yrself with knowledge!
Changed my life, would reccomend.
Reblogging for the PDF link.
—BB
Always reblogging because this isn’t just a partner abuse thing, this is a common abuse tactic PERIOD: Parents, siblings, bosses, general assholes, etc…
Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost. Did you lose the battle with cancer? Maybe you died in a fist fight. Even facing addiction. After taking a deep drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise!
Oh my god, this is beautiful.
A small child enters Valhalla. The battle they lost was “hiding from an alcoholic father.” Odin sees the flinch when he slams the cup and refrains from doing it again. He hears the child’s pain; no glorious battle this, but one of fear and wretched survival.
He invites the child to sit with him, offers the choicest mead and instructs his men to bring a sword and shield, a bow and arrow, of the very best materials and appropriate size. “Here,” he says, “you will find no man who dares to harm you. But so you will know your own strength, and be happy all your days in Valhalla, I will teach you to use these weapons.”
The sad day comes when another child enters the hall. Odin does not slam his cup; he simply beams with pride as the first child approaches the newcomer, and holds out her bow and quiver, and says “nobody here will hurt you. Everyone will be so proud you did your best, and I’ll teach you to use these, so you always know how strong you are.”
————
A young man enters the hall. He hesitates when Odin asks his story, but at long last, it ekes out: skinheads after the Pride parade. His partner got into a building and called for help. The police took a little longer than perhaps they really needed to, and two of those selfsame skinheads are in the hospital now with broken bones that need setting, but six against one is no fair match. The fear in his face is obvious: here, among men large enough to break him in two, will he face an eternity of torment for the man he left behind?
Odin rumbles with anger. Curses the low worms who brought this man to his table, and regales him with tales of Loki so to show him his own welcome. “A day will come, my friend, when you seek to be reunited, and so you shall,” Odin tells him. “To request the aid of your comrades in battle is no shameful thing.”
———-
A woman in pink sits near the head of the table. She’s very nearly skin and bones, and has no hair. This will not last; health returns in Valhalla, and joy, and light, and merrymaking. But now her soul remembers the battle of her life, and it must heal.
Odin asks.
And asks again.
And the words pour out like poisoned water, things she couldn’t tell her husband or children. The pain of chemotherapy. The agony of a mastectomy, the pain still deeper of “we found a tumor in your lymph nodes. I’m so sorry.” And at last, the tortured question: what is left of her?
Odin raises his flagon high. “What is left of you, fair warrior queen, is a spirit bright as fire; a will as strong as any forged iron; a life as great as any sea. Your battle was hard-fought, and lost in the glory only such furor can bring, and now the pain and fight are behind you.“
In the months to come, she becomes a scop of the hall–no demotion, but simple choice. She tells the stories of the great healers, Agnes and Tanya, who fought alongside her and thousands of others, who turn from no battle in the belief that one day, one day, the war may be won; the warriors Jessie and Mabel and Jeri and Monique, still battling on; the queens and soldiers and great women of yore.
The day comes when she calls a familiar name, and another small, scarred woman, eyes sunken and dark, limbs frail, curly black hair shaved close to her head, looks up and sees her across the hall. Odin descends from his throne, a tall and foaming goblet in his hands, and stuns the hall entire into silence as he kneels before the newcomer and holds up the goblet between her small dark hands and bids her to drink.
“All-Father!” the feasting multitudes cry. “What brings great Odin, Spear-Shaker, Ancient One, Wand-Bearer, Teacher of Gods, to his knees for this lone waif?”
He waves them off with a hand.
“This woman, LaTeesha, Destroyer of Cancer, from whom the great tumors fly in fear, has fought that greatest battle,” he says, his voice rolling across the hall. “She has fought not another body, but her own; traded blows not with other limbs but with her own flesh; has allowed herself to be pierced with needles and scored with knives, taken poison into her very veins to defeat this enemy, and at long last it is time for her to put her weapons down. Do you think for a moment this fight is less glorious for being in silence, her deeds the less for having been aided by others who provided her weapons? She has a place in this great hall; indeed, the highest place.”
And the children perform feats of archery for the entertainment of all, and the women sing as the young man who still awaits his beloved plays a lute–which, after all, is not so different from the guitar he once used to break a man’s face in that great final fight.
Valhalla is a place of joy, of glory, of great feasting and merrymaking.
And it is a place for the soul and mind to heal.
THIS! This is the Hanged God who owns my loyalty, Old One-Eye who’s call I answer above all.
He is not one to turn the brave aside, asks no more than what one can give (Even if, at times, it doesn’t look that way.)
Steel Phoenix Studios 