Something has been grating on me lately. I am tired of being invisible while the arrogance and ego of the world chokes me into submission and rises to the top. (I will one day state what I really mean by this but for now, I will just drop the seed of annoyance.)
I am not one to seek recognition or status, rather I prefer to tell the truths but as no one seems to like the truth, people like me get sidelined to the fringes where we are filtered out and made to keep quiet.
A false ego speaks louder than soft sincerity. (OK, I am very rarely soft it must be said.)
I have taken it upon myself to write about our mothers. The ones that perhaps centuries ago couldn’t read or write but they knew how to keep us clothed, warm, fed and nurtured. Their legacy and their intelligence was one that existed in the shadows while the men were raised up to be the glorious shining sun gods, kings, warriors and builders of our world that battled for our right to be here.
These women go forgotten, unrewarded, undocumented for the most part in comparison because remembrance honours the ones on the frontline that have their names etched in stone thanks to the fight they fought. Not the ones that were kept in corners or boarderlines, hungry and meek while they raised the next generation that awaited their fate on the turn tables.
So, to honour these women, this autumn, I am doing a project for my own studies and the fields I work in called, ‘To walk invisible.’ – And for those of you that follow me on social, you will know that a lot of the works I have done are focused on ancestral timelines, connections from women of our pasts and the importance of keeping them alive in the flames of our existence.
I have done a lot of work about Charlotte Bronte, as we went to the same school although centuries apart and given that, she has always been one of my most prolific female ancestors. We were born in the same place, followed the same paths and are both rebellious satirists that use words to get our points across so, in honour of that, I will start by saying, ‘I don’t mince mine.’
Charlotte was a Taurus. A bull in a china shop with her words where they punch in the gut hard but also leave a bruise of refinery, a slamming bravery, eloquent and most of all raw, dark passion.
I am a Sagittarius. I fire my words in the hopes they wherever I leave holes, perspectives can grow from them, truths that maybe hurt will linger there until people are ready to read them. I don’t really care who I hurt for I never lie and if I offend then that is your problem not mine.
So, when I deliver a topic, such as the one I am about to lay on the table right now on the invisible mother, I have to seek the truth in order to proceed and to do that, I must source out the root cause of her invisibility and in this instance, much like many instances I have written about many times before, that root cause is very often, men!
I am not a man hater at all! Love you guys but, I have to tell the truth and fire my arrow so that it safeguards the lady that came before the archer that deeply requires protection. The lady that is submerged in the veils of shadows and under surface layers of fear that she can’t rise up because the light of the truth is often more painful than the softness of the blackout that eclipses her.
I go the long way round. I don’t do 2 paragraphs or bullet-points or 1 liners. I have too much to say and I speak not only for myself but on behalf of many others, therefore I don’t apologise that there’s a lot to digest.
I started to question why so much of what it is to be a woman means having to lurk in the shadows. Why there is so much force to keep us unseen, silent, unheard and trapped in cages.
In this day and age, you might deny this and argue that women are now having their moment and have risen up to declare their feminist regal stance above men but actually, aside from the crazy ones standing there naked and screaming about how truthfully, it is still very unequal, these women aren’t rising up in their truest form to showcase their depth qualities. Not at all! They are rising up as men. Second to their counterparts playing the mans role and better than most of them might I add.
They aren’t walking into conference rooms with their divine qualities that our ancestral mothers left us as our inheritance, proclaiming to now wish to use their power to join the game. No, not at all! They have just joined the mans game, from a male principle so now we have extra players, extra work, extra business to bring about a rising cost of living and driving the equality even further apart making it harder and harder for women to play their part right.
IT’S OUR CHILDREN THAT SUFFER FROM THIS!
Now, thanks to that ‘freedom we fought for,’ we leave our kids in daycare with strangers to raise because we’re equal to men on their playing field. Our field is now barren and unprotected.
It has been said that men follow the sun, women follow the moon. We are equal, or at least should be, but we are certainly not the same! Every day a man rises and from sunrise to sunset his daily 9-5 ordeals run in that same linear order. However, a woman that is lunar awakes every morning and does not follow the sun like her man for her physiology expects that she spends each 28 days, thickening, thinning, waxing, waning, blooming into full gestation and then dying off to repeat the cycle all over again.
How on earth then as women do we pretend to play the mans game when the rule book is set so differently for us? We don’t get days off each cycle when the moon goes black, which monthly it does. We don’t get extra time off to sleep more, rest more, eat more.
The suns rulebook is a daily set 9-5 and the only way the moon comes into play is by seeing that after 28 days of playing by the rules of the sun, we are then paid accordingly for it. Women still less than men, even though we know, come on, we work a fuck ton harder! Our monthly salary is lunar honoured but it is done so via a set of statutory laws that require us to daily play by the suns rules, which values men more that it does women. So why are we in this game, playing this way?
And the sad part is, that according to our history, if we really wanted to play by the rule book of women, we would have to be content with being invisible for our past teaches us that women don’t just create the infratructure by which we all exist, they are entirely absent from being visible within it.
TO WALK INVISIBLE
Over the course of this next seasonal cycle, where we slide into the darkness of winter, I am going to document exactly what I mean by this via imagery collected over our time periods and links to other articles that I will share alongside my own to further express this invisibility and the costs of being a woman in a mans world.
Yes, thanks to the solar gods, the women of the world right now are the major players that are exhausting themselves in this game of war and it’s time that if we are to do so, we must stop being so invisible.
I will end this by bringing to surface a very recent area of trouble that is of significant concern and conversation right now. As the leaders of the west are so hell set on destroying us, they are sending in boat load after boat load of men from foreign lands to place feet on our grounds without our consent or permission but……..
WHERE ARE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN?
Again, I quote from above:
Now, thanks to that ‘freedom we fought for,’ we leave our kids in daycare with strangers to raise because we’re equal to men on their playing field. Our field is now barren and unprotected.
Again, we see photograph after photograph of all of these MEN, but the women and children are nowhere to be seen.
Conclude of that what you will. I know many have their theories and concerns on this right now but it’s yet another very valid and recent point to make when bringing up this conversation that proves exactly what I mean. I thought I would end this with a trigger before we move on to the next part which, will be a lot more gentler and thoughtful than how I have just viciously punched this into visual life force!
Let’s make the invisible visible again!
Join me on social to follow the path of our ancestors through the whimsical, magical and mystical tales of wonder that they set in motion for us and this time, instead of getting burned at the steak, we will rise up and TAKE OUR POWER BACK!
