 |
| Art by Kat Kissick |
I was always on a diet, it seems.
Even as a child I was told not to eat too much—so I
didn’t, in front of people anyway. Food was scarce, so I comfort
ate wherever I could to cope with the abuse I suffered on a daily
basis. This of course became the precursor to an eating disorder
later on in life.
When I look at pictures of myself from 20 years ago,
I can recall I was on a diet then too, despite the fact I was already
so slim. It was around that time that someone close to me said, “I
can’t take you there looking like that!”
She was referring to going “home” to Baghdad to
see extended family. I clearly wasn’t in the best shape I could be
in, despite being at my lowest weight as an adult. There was so much
value put on my appearance—and most importantly the size of my
waist—that I assumed everyone in Baghdad must be thin as rails for
one reason or another. Of course, this was completely illogical, but
the obsession to make oneself almost disappear in a patriarchal
society didn’t make sense to me until much later on.
They were trying to disappear me. Make me a pretty
little inconspicuous thing, a non-threatening thing. One who took up
no space, one who didn’t speak—and I thought this was normal.
Well, that was until I met my Grandmother and Aunts.
I saw fairly tall, well-built, but most importantly
voluptuous women. Women with breasts, bellies, thighs and butts,
women who look like me. These women were colorful, loud, and
confident. Their auras were incredible, they were a commanding, yet
loving presence. A perfect example of the fierce feminine. I only
wish I had come to this realization then; it would’ve saved me
decades of grief.
It wasn’t until I had my own children that I
noticed my body start to change—parts that were soft before, only
got softer. And even though this body literally sustained life,
my children’s and my own, I still fought it to death.
I would binge, then starve, then cry out of complete
despair.
I saw myself as a failure, all because I couldn’t
maintain some unattainable ideal that society was ramming down my
throat.
It was a battle that lasted for so many years, it was
a part of me and my experience.
When I first saw the Willendorf, I was stunned. I had
seen images of Earth Mother, and Gaia, with the large breast and
bellies, but this image was different.
It was almost a sense of shock and relief at the same
time.
Who created Her this way? Is She pregnant? Is She a
representation of all that is? The Heavens and the Earth, all those
who dwell here? Wouldn’t it make sense that She be voluptuous, that
She is soft?
 |
| Art by Jakki Moore |
The era of patriarchy sought to silence us, thin us.
Disappear us.
I had to sit with myself and with Her for a long
time. I had to allow this message to sink into my very soul.
The Goddess has taught me many lessons, her many
aspects and faces contain immense wisdom. But it was the Willendorf
Goddess who held one of the most powerful lessons.
She taught me that self-acceptance was possible. Her
message is evident even in her presence, like the presence of my
Grandmother and Aunts. The fierce feminine that isn’t afraid to
take up space.
Let us listen to Her message, gaze upon her
incredible image, and remind ourselves to take up the space that we
deserve.
Stay tuned for our upcoming anthology, Willendorf's Legacy: The Sacred Body.... And check out our children's book, My Name is Goddess of Willendorf!
“At last—the truth about the Goddess of Willendorf, Mother of All. No, we Her daughters are not all skinny like some male standard demands. Yes, some of us Her daughters have soft thighs. Yes, we Her daughters are of many colors and speak many languages. Our own daughters will be inspired by this beautifully illustrated book to see themselves more clearly and more gently.” -Barbara Ardinger, Ph.D., author of Goddess Meditations, Practicing the Presence of the Goddess, and Finding New Goddesses
Comments
Post a Comment