Aloha & Welcome to the Spring 2025 edition of Women Raise Our Voices e-zine.
Grandmother’s Book: Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Marjorie St. Clair
McCulloch Farm
My kin have longtime roots in the South. My mother and her family, the McCulloch’s, grew up on a small farm in northern Alabama. She met and married my father, and we lived in a small town in Alabama until I was seven years old when we moved to Georgia. During my early childhood in Alabama, we made many trips to visit Grandma and Grandpa McCulloch on their farm. In the evening’s cool everyone would sit on the front porch in the swing or rocking chairs. Most of the adults dipped snuff or chewed tobacco while regaling us kids with their stories, wild tales that freely mixed facts with a vivid imagination. Grandpa told tales of being a young drummer boy that accompanied the Confederate soldiers in the Civil War. Grandma always had fresh peach pies she’d just pulled out from her wood stove, ready for us to eat when they cooled.
As children, we took no notice of the physical difficulties and poverty that most families like ours living on farms in the rural South experienced. There was no fancy furniture or elegant rugs, no paintings or decorations on the walls, and few books. How it came about or why I ended up with my Grandma’s copy of the controversial book Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I don’t recall. Maybe she gave it to me because I loved reading or maybe with my blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes, I reminded her of one of thirteen children she’d birthed. Or maybe it was because when we moved to Georgia, I started writing to her, telling her about our news in the far-away place we now called home. She always wrote me back in her practiced, cursive handwriting, telling me of simple things around the farm, what the weather was and who had visited.
From the Editors
In choosing this issue’s theme, NURTURING IN A TIME OF CHAOS, we grappled with opinions on nurturing. Some on our editorial board expressed concern: “Haven’t women done enough of that in everyday life? Isn’t nurturing stereotypical for women? Don’t we need action?”
Yet what spoke to all of us was the need to nurture ourselves and each other particularly in times of turmoil, chaos, and grief.
We can see examples in Nature whenever we walk outdoors. Nothing in Nature exists in isolation. Inter-connections allow for the survival and thriving of the community. Walking and communing with nature is a form of self-care. It helps us draw strength and insight which we can use to stand in solidarity with our communities. A nurtured, human community enables us to look in the face of division with grace, build bridges and topple walls.
Writers and artists submitted material addressing the general theme of coping with life inside of chaos. We hope you all enjoy the variety of ways in which nurturing is expressed.
Poetry Finalists
Childless by Dr. Gina T. Ogorzaly
Ode Para Ti by Loretta Huerta
Singing the Light by Susan Haifleigh
Split Pea Soup by Andi Penner
Prose Finalists
New Mantras by Rebecca Jo Dakota
Listen to my heart. It’s wiser than my thinking mind.
When in doubt, go to the garden.
I am not naïve. I see what’s going on. It is painful to see this disruption and destruction of old paradigms and norms, even though I know it’s time for some of them to go. I am a witness to the immorality of the harm being done to humans, the Earth, and all her beings.
These mantras are definitely not about burying my head in the sand. I still have to show up at rallies, support candidates and causes, even listen to and talk with people who voted for the orange dude.
Our Women’s Code by Mary Rives
Imagine the triumph of a 15-year-old girl in the mid-1970’s fending off three attempted rapists. That girl was me.
My military family lived in La Mesa Village of Monterey, California, where my dad was stationed at the Presidio of Monterey. The surfer boy who lived in La Mesa Village had the requisite long, curly blond hair and stark blue eyes. He believed he was the coolest, sexiest dude on earth. He took me to a popular teen partying spot and pushed me down into the grass. I was quietly disgusted as he started making out with me against my will, started pawing me all over, and tried to take off my clothes. I clenched my jaw shut, wriggled out from under his body, fought off his advances with a strength I didn’t even know I had, and ran back home.
Shadows Toss & Turn by Janet Ruth
Crouched on the top step, my eight-year-old-self peers down through the banister to where her mother sits reading. A whine—a sobbing hiccup—Mommy, I can’t sleep. Mother chides gently, Well, you’re certainly not going to sleep there. Go back to bed. Already a love/hate relationship with sleep—can’t go there (to sleep), can’t stay there (asleep). Childish monkey mind stews, stirs the pot of whatever worries mar preadolescent subconscious.
with sleep comes
that recurring nightmare
my pounding heart
The Gopher Snake: Reflections on Mercy by Janet Ruth
My neighbor phones—Please come over! It needs your help. I feel bad but I’m afraid to touch it.
Squatting by the fig bush wrapped with netting to keep birds off—the snake is impossibly tangled. She was probably slithering through on her way somewhere else—with mice—like our compost bin or the garage. I have no idea if it’s male or female, but it feels wrong using “it,” so I choose to call the snake “her.”
She is a gopher snake (Pituophis catenifer), welcome controller of local rodent populations, this beauty adorned with chestnut patches on a cream background. I flash on previous encounters:
The Mighty Cup of Tea by Dairne McLoughlin
Making my morning cup of tea is like saying a nurturing prayer. As I pour boiling water over the leaves, the aroma fills my senses, and that feeling of well-being surrounds me. The ritual of waiting patiently in silence as it steeps, then that first sip, ahh, comfort in a cup.
Holding a warm cup of tea in my hands is a hug I give myself. Sipping slowly, listening to bird songs and watching the sunrise, I smile as all of nature wakes up with me. I feel such gratitude for the nurturing that Mother Earth offers with no conditions. Pure love and joy.
Art Finalists
To learn more about the art and the artist click on the image below.
Arborophilia
photograph
by Kathy Johnson
Emerald Ecstasy
photograph
by Kathy Johnson
Feed One Another
woven tapestry
by Amber Garland
A Stitch in Time
mixed media collage
by Gina Ogorzaly
Kitchen Corner
by Dairne McLoughlin
In Chinese Medicine, Spring is the season of the Liver and Gallbladder. The liver is the home of anger. In these challenging times, if you find yourself struggling with anger and resentment, here is a tea that will help soothe the savage beast.
Liver-soothing Tea
5 cups of water
2 tsp fennel seeds
2 tsp fenugreek seeds
4 tsp peppermint leaves (fresh is best, if you have it)
1 tsp licorice root
1-inch piece of fresh ginger, sliced
Women Raise Our Voices is an online quarterly platform written, edited and illustrated by a revolving collective of ten women. It is a place for women, non-binary and female-identified creatives to share their writing and visual arts. Our voices matter! Your voice matters! We want to hear your compassionate and authentic stories.
Thanks to everyone who submitted their work and a big thank-you to you the reader for being part of our subscriber-community! The editors for this issue were Dairne McLoughlin and Rebecca Leeman; Andi Penner was our esteemed editing guru; Rebecca Dakota, Claire Reutter, Gina Ogorzaly, and Elizabeth Prosapio read all submissions and selected these for publication. Kudos to Denise Weaver Ross, our talented artist and designer who puts it all together and gets it out into the world, and to our founding visionary, Marjorie St. Clair.