Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Call for Submissions - Original Resistance: Reclaiming Lilith, Reclaiming Ourselves

The Girl God is accepting submissions for our upcoming Anthology of women’s writing: Original Resistance: Reclaiming Lilith, Reclaiming Ourselves.

We want to hear from women about their insight into this Goddess and how they have used Her story to resist societies expectations of them and reclaim their personal power. Personal essays (up to 2,500 words), academic papers, poetry and (black and white) art are welcome.

Edited by Monette Chilson, Trista Hendren and Pat Daly

Scheduled publication: June 2019

Please send your submissions to trista@girlgod.org by January 31, 2019.

Submission Guidelines:
Please send your finished piece in a Word document.  Art should be sent in high resolution as a JPG.  You may submit more than one piece for consideration, but due to the volume of submissions, please only send your best work.

In the meantime, be sure to check out our new book for children of all ages, My Name is Lilith!

Saturday, March 11, 2017

It Doesn’t Matter What we Think About the Burqa - Mary Scully

And when all is said & done, after the last tweet & range of views on Islam, religious fundamentalism, the burqa, & the Taliban have been exorcised & the adrenaline has settled, there are these little Afghan girls made homeless by the US-NATO war. 

Few reliable figures exist for the number of Afghan children orphaned by the war through loss or separation from parents. Nearly a decade ago, it was estimated at two million. That is, one out of seven children growing up on the streets scrounging to survive or in an orphanage. We don’t know if these little girls are orphaned; we do know they lost their home to bombing & live in makeshift refugee housing.

So it really doesn’t matter what we think about the burqa; what matters is what we do about the US-NATO bombing.

US-NATO out of Afghanistan! US out of Iraq!

Mary Scully

Photo by Massoud Hossaini/AP; Hossaini is an Afghan photojournalist who has long documented the story of Afghan’s orphaned children.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Call for Submissions - Inanna's Descent: Restoring Civilization in Troubled Times

The Girl God is accepting submissions for our upcoming Anthology of women’s writing: Inanna's Descent: Restoring Civilization in Troubled Times.

We want to hear from women about their insight into this Goddess and how they have used Her story or personal descent or a "dark night of the soul" to transcend and transform themselves and the world around them. Personal essays (up to 2,500 words), academic papers, poetry and (black and white) art are welcome.

Edited by Tamara Albanna, Trista Hendren and Pat Daly

Scheduled publication: June 2017

Please send your submissions to trista@girlgod.org by January 31, 2018.

Submission Guidelines:
Please send your finished piece in a Word document.  Art should be sent in high resolution as a JPG.  You may submit more than one piece for consideration, but due to the volume of submissions, please only send your best work.

Monday, February 27, 2017

Mother Medusa: Regenerative One by Glenys Livingstone Ph.D.

"The Gorgon Medusa" by Sudie Rakusin

I first saw Her in myself, and gave voice to Her, after I had given a paper on Women and Religion, at the Women and Labour Conference in Australia in 1980; and the paper had attracted quite a bit of media attention. I felt myself to be seen as She was: that is, as some-thing completely out in and of, the wilderness – though I did not yet correctly name Her: I did not really know who She was at that time. I did not know my heritage then - my Hera-tage: it was only just beginning to emerge from the Great Below. As a method of processing this experience I had a dialogue with Society as an entity. It proceeded thus:

Society: What is this thing that you are – where do you come from? Who dug you up? You are ghastly. You have snakes on your head for hair. You have demons within you. You are Lillith. You are damnation. Give me a chance and I will be rid of you – the likes of you I had hoped were burnt long ago. But you have crawled forth from the earth again. You have come like a poisonous gas: you will corrupt me and all that I feed on. I wish to exorcise your presence.

Glenys: You are right that I mean to be part of radically changing you. You flatter me to say that I am Lillith. You honour me to connect me with my sisters long gone. Am I so totally opposed to you? Have I grasped so clearly your demons – your shadow? Has some special darkness of yours come to rest so completely in me? When you see me you cringe so … like as if I were a leper – unclean. Am I such a puzzle to you? Do I show so much of your inadequacy?

Society: You are like the one from whose mouth fell toads and frogs. How is it that I honour you with these things? Was Eve honourable?

Glenys: What of Joan of Arc? Your brothers called her witch and burnt her – then they canonized her later when they forgot her potency.

And a little later I added: You wish that I didn’t exist, so in some ways you rob me of my existence. You will, not to give me a mirror by which I may see myself … though you do in a distorted fashion.

At around the same time in my life I had been reading Robin Morgan’s book of poems Monster, and in particular the poem by that name at the end of the book, in which she feels identified in mind, spirit and body - so completely - as monster, by the cultural context and even by her toddler son. She concludes:

May my hives bloom bravely until my flesh is aflame
And burns through the cobwebs.
May we go mad together, my sisters.
May our labor agony in bringing forth this revolution
be the death of all pain.

May I learn how to survive until my part is finished.
May I realize that I
        am a
monster. I am
        a monster.
I am a monster. 
And I am proud.1 

I did feel myself to be this monster, however I wasn’t sure that I could bear it: my inner resources were meager, and I didn’t really know how I could be proud. I had a dream at that time after giving the conference paper wherein I was an ancient woman on the plains dressed in animal skin and holding a spear. Words were spoken to me, telling me to rise up and that my ancient spear would find its mark; there was also notice of future wounding in the process. I felt strengthened in my wild mission to find Her and more words for Her, my wild mission to know Her more deeply.

So off I went to study, across the seas, alone – without family. Amongst the readings in the research process was Barbara Walker’s Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets: including in it an introduction to Medusa, in which Barbara Walker confirmed that despite patriarchal perceptions, Medusa may represent “an ancient, widely recognized symbol of divine female wisdom”.2 She was named at last, and fuller notice of Her character given. Then there was Hélène Cixous’ ovarian work The Laugh of the Medusa, which praised Medusa’s wild beauty, and inspired further action and writing to restore this divine beauty. Hélène Cixous wrote:“Let the priests tremble, we’re going to show them our sexts!”i I was beginning to grasp some threads. My journey with Her was just beginning, though I had no idea: life got busy and it would be another ten years before I really felt Her again, in devastating circumstance as is often Her way.

I was after all a daughter of the patriarchy, and real change in my core being was required: I felt strongly the cultural assignment as sex object, with no sense of organic agency – a colonized bodymind, vulnerable to predation. I was blessed however: my life fell apart. I wrote a little later in reflection:
What did it take… to develop a shell, a protective boundary, to pull the shades on the imposing mostly male Gaze, to allow a fertile darkness within my being, where "I" could begin? What did it take to create this kind of darkness, a safe place to Be, to shut out the world and scream "I"? … A sex object has to completely fall apart before she can rebuild herself in her own image. She has fall into the mud, begin again, perform her own acts of Creation, mold herself of this solid material. It is out of the mud that the lotus blossoms. It does not grow on some pedestal, under the light of the eternal Gaze. … How ironic that our paternal mythmakers made Medusa's gaze the deadly one!3

In the process of rebuilding myself and my life, I began at last to facilitate classes, gathering groups of women for Re-storying Goddess as the classes were named … and so we did this in-forming for each other, filling our bodyminds with noble ancient images and story, and hearing each other into speech.4 In these many classes and workshops I would always invoke the Crone aspect in this way:
There is a time for the waxing and there is a time for the waning. Medusa, Hecate, Kali ... we call you. Once you were not separate, we restore you to your place in the cycle, in the communion.

Gradually I was able to form the question in my mind, and later wrote it into my doctoral thesis5 and then into my book:
What might be the consequences of changing our minds sufficiently, so that Medusa for instance, can be comprehended as metaphor for Divine Wisdom? Many scholars contend She once was understood this way. What might it mean for our minds to welcome Her back? Would that alter the way we relate to Earth, to Being?6

I was able at this time to identify Goddess – “the Female Metaphor” as I named Her, in all Her three qualities, with Cosmogenesis, the Western scientific story of the creative unfolding of the Cosmos, as told by Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry.7 They describe these three qualities of Cosmogenesis as “the governing themes and the basal intentionality of all existence”, characterizing the evolution of the universe “throughout time and space and at every level of reality”.8 And so, did I identify Goddess’s three qualities: as primordial and all pervasive Creative Cosmic Dynamic. I now saw clearly Her aspect of Crone, Dark One, as essentially creative: the breaking down of the old, the “waning”, was actually creative, in the context of the whole and larger picture, the communion.9 With Her process She allows space for renewal: I named Her as She Who Creates the Space to Be.

When I began the practice of celebrating the full year of seasonal ceremony in a serious committed manner in 1998 - having noticed the power of such religious practice, the power of speaking with the Mother Cosmos in this way - I always wore a significant headpiece that actually was characteristic of the ancient primordial Medusa, though I did not know it. The artist who created the headpiece had named Her Melusine and that meant very little to me at the time also. The reason I bought the headpiece was because a child – “Stephanie” was her name – saw me trying it on and exclaimed “Fairy!” with delight: I was seduced. I had no idea who She was, and only began to play with the headpiece and the armband that came with it, in the Re-storying Goddess workshops a few years after buying it: indeed all the women played with Her. But with the serious engagement in the ceremonial celebration of the full year of the Seasonal Moments I decorated Her – this headpiece - each time according to the themes of the Season, and wore Her. This headpiece became an entity over the years; I wrote:
As I pace the circle … I see “Her” as She has been through the Seasons … the black and gold of Samhain, the deep red, white and evergreen of Winter, the white and blue of Imbolc, the flowers of Eostar, the rainbow ribbons of Beltane, the roses of Summer, the seed pods and wheat of Lammas, and now the Autumn leaves. I see in my mind’s eye, and feel, Her changes. I am learning … The Mother knowledge grows within me.10
Only gradually have I come to identify Her snake coils and bird wings, as an ancient combination representative of Medusa as Miriam Robbins Dexter describes in this anthology.11 I realize now that I had been invoking Medusa; calling Her into my being, embodying Her in Seasonal ceremony, embedding Her regenerative creativity in my life. As Marija Gimbutas points out, the earliest Greek gorgons as Medusa was, or wherever Goddess appeared as a mask of death, She was never separate from symbols of regeneration.12

I did not “choose” Her. She chose me it seems. I was a space wherein She could grow, and She was re-storing the integrity and nobility of my femaleness: perhaps “the curse” in all its valences of body cycle, spirit and mind that I held in my female being and story, was actually a portal of deep connection to Earth as Mother. My cultural context has tried to ignore this Beauty and ubiquitously abuses it. Was the shame and the horror actually a blessing? Was She – the Medusa and all She represented actually beautiful, as Hélène Cixous and others had perceived? Perhaps this was why they couldn’t bear to look at Her? I began to understand that Her awesome visage was indeed characteristic of any ultimate Deity: fearsome to behold, but it included intense beauty as well as terror.

Still She dawns in me, gradually rising and coming to fullness, the Regenerative One whom She is. Still I learn how the darkness and the shedding of the old, which She represents, is simultaneously space for renewal – one does not happen without the other, whether or not one can see it. Gradually Her ancient knowledge of never-ending renewal is restoring to my being.

© Glenys Livingstone 2017 C.E. / an excerpt from the upcoming girl god anthology, Re-visioning Medusa: from Monster to Divine Wisdom - available for pre-order here.


Cixous, Hélène. “The Laugh of the Medusa” (trans. Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen). Signs 1 no. 22, Summer 1976, p.875-893.

Gimbutas, Marija. The Language of the Goddess. NY: HarperCollins, 1991.

Livingstone, Glenys. PaGaian Cosmology: Re-inventing Earth-based Goddess Religion. NE: iUniverse, 2005.

Livingstone, Glenys. The Female Metaphor – Virgin, Mother, Crone - of the Dynamic Cosmological Unfolding: Her Embodiment in Seasonal Ritual as Catalyst for Personal and Cultural Change. Ph.D. thesis, University of Western Sydney, 2002.

Morgan, Robin. Monster. NY: Vintage Books. 1972.

Swimme, Brian and Berry, Thomas. The Universe Story. New York: HarperCollins, 1992.

Walker, Barbara. The Woman's Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983. 


1Robin Morgan, Monster, p. 85-86.

2 Barbara Walker, The Woman's Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets, p. 629.

3 Hélène Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa, p. 885.

4 Nelle Morton used this expression somewhere: “hearing each other into speech”.

5 Glenys Livingstone. The Female Metaphor – Virgin, Mother, Crone - of the Dynamic Cosmological Unfolding: Her Embodiment in Seasonal Ritual as Catalyst for Personal and Cultural Change.

6 Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, p. 66.

7Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry, The Universe Story, pp. 71-79.

8Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry, The Universe Story, p.71.

9I develop this further in PaGaian Cosmology, pp. 117-120 in particular.

10Glenys Livingstone, PaGaian Cosmology, p. 181.

11Miriam Robbins Dexter, p. 11.

12 Marija Gimbutas, The Language of the Goddess, p. xxiii and p.207.

Friday, February 24, 2017

What Happened to You, Medusa? By Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D.

Painting by Arna Baartz

Medusa, what happened to you?
You and your sisters were filled with such grace,
you were all fair of face, with gentle eyes,
you were a priestess of the warrior/wisdom maiden—
what wisdom did you own?
But why did you lie with the sea god
and what did he tell you?
Did you hear only a seducer’s deceiving words,
or did he tell you secrets of sea and land and earthquake?
What did you learn?

Medusa, what is the source of your rage?
Is it betrayal—
did you betray the warrior/wisdom maiden,
or were you betrayed by her?
And what did the hero do to you?
How were you hidden from the sun?
Are you, like all who see you now, threatened
by the vipers that crown you?
Who turned you into embodied anger,
and why do men say you can kill with a single glance?

What mysteries do you—and your writhing snakes—
have to speak to us today?
Did those snakes used to be sparks of goddess
flashing round your head?
What happened to you, Medusa?

An exerpt from the upcoming girl god anthology, Re-visioning Medusa: from Monster to Divine Wisdom.

Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D. (www.barbaraardinger.com) is the author of Pagan Every Day, Finding New Goddesses, Practicing the Presence of the Goddess, Goddess Meditations, and two novels, Secret Lives and Quicksilver Moon. Her blogs appear every month on her website and on Feminism andReligion, where she is a regular Pagan contributor. She has been writing for the Llewellyn annuals since 2004, and her work has also been published in devotionals to Isis, Athena, and Brigid. Barbara’s day job is freelance editing for people who have good ideas but don’t want to embarrass themselves in print. To date, she has edited more than 300 books, both fiction and nonfiction, on a wide range of topics. She lives in Long Beach, California, with her two rescued Maine coon cats, Schroedinger and Heisenberg. Her doctorate is in English.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Call for Submissions: The Abuse After the Abuse: How Men use Money to Destroy Women

The Girl God is accepting submissions for our upcoming book about the widespread financial abuse of women: The Abuse After the Abuse:  How Men use Money to Destroy Women.

Financial abuse goes hand-in-hand with 98% of domestic violence cases, as well as many marriages and divorces throughout the world - and yet it is rarely talked about.

We want to hear from women about their experiences with this kind of abuse by intimate male partners, past and present. Personal essays (up to 750 words), poetry and (black and white) art are welcome.

Selected contributors will receive a copy of the book when it is published.

Scheduled publication: Late 2017

Please send your submissions to trista@girlgod.org by May 31, 2017.

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Feral Mothering by Lesley 'Orion' Johnson

Art by Arna Baartz

She comes to an abyss,
Across it she saw a warm dwelling & realized how tired she'd grown.
How much she'd forgiven.
A ways down the cliff edge she saw what looked like a bridge
It's faint and dark where it crossed, she could barely make it out
But she imagined
It connecting
To shelter.
She stepped into what seemed only shadow but she just believed so much 
Seemed simple, 
innocent love to home,
She tracked back.
She found her footing again
& felt foolish
Thinking it so easy to cross the abyss
Almost like a trick someone else left
She walked further
Thinking their must be a way.
Another bridge seemingly built by a legacy
It seemed a formality of performance was demanded to cross,
A secret courtesy expected
A lock,
A gate.
On the other side of the bridge she saw flashes of light like cameras flashing. 
A gust of thick wind pushed her to the gates & in her ears she heard,
'You're perfect.' 'You're just what we need.' 'I want to be you!!
A frothing pulled that she struggled to hold her ground within
Sliding across & down to the limb, the trunk, reaching to hold on,
Crawling she pulled from the force of the locked door.
Shuddered from the pull of it.
Vomited from being seen as things she never knew herself to be.
Shaking she followed the tree line along the cliff,
Passing what appeared more innocent shadow bridges
She continued,
Less interested in falling
It becomes colder & her toes begin to numb,
Then there 
Almost blue 
A frozen bridge
Like a tidal wave of power
Still in time 
Muscles tight & tense joints 
Her foot taps to test the ice
& eases up the ample arch
As she skates the bridge narrows & constricts until she's walking across a fine line
Black below
& white dividing it
Where has she gotten herself
She falls back hardly able to breath
Gasping as lightly as she can
Tears burn her eyes & she scoots gently back 
Unsure she wants to try again
Wishing she never had
She makes it back to the edge
Before the abyss
She collapses to her side
& curls into a ball
Across a schism
So dark
& hidden
She can't see the hut 
In the darkness
She forgets why it was ever 
So alluring.
She's tired now
Right here.
Just stay.

An excerpt from Single Mothers Speak on Patriarchy - out now!