Finding And Losing The Pagan Community Through Activism

Content Notice: rape (attempted)

I wasn’t always a witch. Or a feminist. I lived a sheltered life as a child. We weren’t rich by any means. My parents struggled, sacrificed, and worked long hours to give us the things they never had. I took swimming lessons and learned to play violin, was a Girl Guide, and joined summer sports teams. But we lived in a small town and then a farm, a place that felt far away from the harsh realities of war and famine. No matter how many times my parents told me, “Life isn’t fair!” I never stopped believing that it should be.

Read more at http://www.ravishly.com/2017/02/24/finding-and-losing-pagan-community-through-activism

Ravishly, where we celebrate the mess of being human. A community for sharing what makes us tick, what ticks us off, plus pictures of our dogs (or cats – inclusivity is important). We laugh. We cry. We do it all together.

 

Stop Treating Me Like My Body Is A Problem To Be Fixed

I don’t know that I’ve ever really trusted doctors.

My mother, a nurse as long as I’ve known her, tried to teach me to advocate for myself. She told me to ask questions, to do my own research, to know what I was getting myself into, and to remember that those men — because they were always men — were not omnipotent gods, but fallible humans just like her, just like me, just like you. They just happened to also be the gatekeepers of adequate health.

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